


Another Goddamn Hero Story

by rosesisupposes



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Background Remceit, Bipolar Disorder, Bipolar cycling, Child Abuse, Child Death, Childhood Trauma, Coma, Death Threats, Dissociation, Emotional Manipulation, Eventual LAMP - Freeform, Government, Graphic Description, Hallucinations, Hospitalization, Hospitals, Hurtling Towards LAMP, Inspired by Music, Lesbian Moms Are Here To Hug You, Logan is a Hero, M/M, Major fandom character is already dead, Mental Health Issues, Mild Gore, Mind Manipulation, Minor Character Death, Minor Original Character(s), Morally Neutral Deceit Sanders, Near Death, Nightmares, Original Character Death(s), Parent Death, Past Character Death, Patton is a Villain, Platonic Analogical - Freeform, Poverty, Queerplatonic Relationships, Roman is a Villain, Roman speaks French, Roman speaks Spanish, Romantic Prinxiety - Freeform, Sibling Death, Superheroes, Supervillains, Swearing, Violence, depressive episodes, fuck you Russo Bros i'm making it GAY, platonic royality - Freeform, romantic logicality - Freeform, torture the cinnamon roll, virgil is a hero
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2019-08-20 02:17:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 52,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16546922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosesisupposes/pseuds/rosesisupposes
Summary: Roman used to be a Prince. He used to be a superhero. Now, he and his fellow villain Patton are the biggest threat to the status quo of Harmony City, and there’s no pair of heroes more trusted to stop them than Logan and Virgil. What happens when they clash? Another goddamn hero story, that’s what.





	1. Midnight Marauders

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter Warnings: Dissociation/Hallucination; Graphic Violence; Minor Character Death(s); Graphic Threats of Violence; Mild Gore; Emotional numbness/depressive episode; Grief; survivor’s guilt; Mentions of human experimentation; Mentions of child abuse;

The sun was setting on Harmony City, gilding rooftops and glass walls in golden light. It bathed the underbellies of pink and purple clouds, and lit up the face of the dark-haired man sitting on the edge of a roof, dangling his legs off the edge. _I’ll never get tired of this view_ , he thought. _It’s the only time this goddamn city looks as good as it sounds._

A choking sound behind him made him whirl, only to see a costumed man collapse, gasping for air. Another costumed figure in grey, white, and blue walked past the man as he fell, smiling. “Sorry I interrupted your moment, Roman, he looked like he was going to push you.”

“Pat, I can fly, I would have been fine,” Roman said drily.

“No one messes with my family, honeybunch,” Pat said with a beatific smile.

“You’re only knocking him out, right?”

“...yes?”

“P _atton._  Come on, we talked about this”

“Finneee,” Patton relented, waving a hand with a careless gesture. The choking noises stopped, the fallen chest rising once more, but the form didn’t appear able to rise quite yet.

“He’s just a sidekick, he won’t be a risk. Where have you been? I’ve been waiting for ages.”

“Ro, it has been five minutes at most.”

“Like I said, _ages_. Where have you been?”

“Just checking the perimeter behind us again. I’ve only run into this fine fella right here,” he said, gesturing to the prone form behind him.

“Weird, I wonder where his hero is. Usually they catch up much faster, even if it was just a scouting trip. Guess we’re fine to head home, then.”

Roman stepped off the roof of the skyscraper into open air, hands glowing with red light as he held himself aloft gently for the long distance towards the ground. Between the dusk light and the building’s shadow, his dark costume was only noticeable from the occasional glint of streetlights off his gold belt and embroidered accents. His black-and-red cape fluttered gently with his movement. As Patton leapt off the building and caught up with him, the fabric of his costume flapped more vigorously, pulled to and fro with the wind his partner was generating. Roman looked over and chuckled. Patton’s eyes were closed as he fell in a controlled drop, wind currents wrapped around him. Eddies in the air played around the other man’s form like excited children, whirling away and exploring only to return to his side. His long grey tunic flapped over loose white trousers, held in place at his waist by a pale blue sash. A matching blue eye cracked open as Patton looked back through silver glasses frames at Roman and grinned.

“Worrying about me, kiddo?”

“Of course not, you’ve only done this a hundred times. Why do you like falling off buildings so much, again?”

“Why, Roman, worried I don’t understand the _gravity_ of the situation?” Patton cheesed back.

Roman had heard this exact joke a dozen times, but Patton’s glee in telling it never failed to make him laugh all the same.

They both touched down safely in the alley by the building, hidden in shadows that grew steadily darker. Roman glanced out into the street and scanned for movement. Pedestrians turned the corner up a couple blocks, shopping bags on their arms. A plastic bag blew through the gutter. A delivery truck and a handful of cars rumbled down the street. Here in the financial district, things got quiet as it became night. Roman ticked through his mental checklist of threats and oddities, confirming that all was as it should be for this part of the city. “We’re good, Pat.”

Both men stepped further into the alley as Roman lifted his arms, conjuring a wall of light. Red at first, it hardened and darkened into a black, physical construct, shielding them from view. Patton removed his loose robes to reveal his normal t-shirt and jeans, while another glow of red light removed Roman’s costume and left a similarly-normal outfit in its place. They were about to move out into the range of streetlights when Patton pointed at Roman’s face with a small shake of his head. Roman removed his black-and-gold mask with an embarrassed smile. He almost forgot he wore it at least half the time, but he had no interest in blowing his cover. It was the only non-conjured part of his costume, so that his identity could be secret even when his concentration broke.

Letting the wall-construct vanish, Roman led the way as the two friends strode out into the night, heading north and west down one of the diagonal boulevards that spread out from City Center like rays of the now-vanished sun. They chatted softly as they walked, never letting silence fall for more than a few moments as Roman led them through the grid of Harmony City towards their destination. He closed his eyes to double-check his mental map of the city, winced, and abruptly tried to steer Patton up a street heading north. He’d hesitated too long, though - Patton had already seen what Ro had been trying to avoid.

A construction site, still in progress after a year and a half, sat on the border of the north- and south-western districts. After many long delays, the crater that had once stood there was filled and new foundations had been laid. The skeleton of a growing building jutted out like a new tooth in a rotted mouth. The sight made Patton stiffen, resisting Roman’s tug on his arm.

“So they really are trying to rebuild it, are they?” he commented. His tone was too careful, too flat and uncaring, his face too stony.

“Pat-”

“Do they think rebuilding it will fix anything? That a shiny new building will make it easier to forget who died that day?”

Roman broke Patton’s line of sight to the construction, hands on both his friend’s shoulders as he spoke. “Hey. I know it’s hard to see. But we can’t stop right now, remember? What happened there will never be okay, and will never be forgotten. But we can’t do anything about it right now. Later though, I promise. We _will_.”

Patton stared through Roman for moment, then shook his head to clear it. His painfully blank visage morphed back into his default smile. “You’re right, Ro. I’m just being silly again. I know we’ll take care of it when the time’s right. Let’s go.”

Roman kept a careful hand on Patton’s back as he steered him north, away from the construction and closer to the more residential northwest quadrant of the city. Plate-glass covered office buildings had melted into brick rowhouses and corner stores. Sidewalks swelled wider to sprout trees, each one given its own square patch of earth with an ornamental fence. The sidewalks were fuller, too, of families and residents strolling from circle to circle of light from the antique-style streetlamps. Patton noticed their proximity to their destination first, and nudged Roman with a shoulder. There, surrounded by quaint homes and postage-stamp parks, was one of the enormous chain supermarkets of the neighborhood. Amidst the charm of the district, it looked like a sullen teenager who refused to dress for company, all sharp angles and grey concrete. It had replaced many local bodegas, both as competition and in location, with the owners taking over an entire block and flattening everything that had been there before.

Following the tide of the crowd, Patton and Roman strolled through the automatic doors and grabbed a basket. Looking for all the world like another domestic couple, they chose cereals and fruits and breads, edging in between chatting parents and tired office workers. When their basket was full, they headed straight for the doors to leave, skipping past lines to the registers and passing the theft sensors. Alarms clanged to wakefulness as security burst out of their office, charging at the pair. Patton glanced over at Roman only to see his mask already secure on his face as he smirked back and lifted a hand. A flash of red light swirled around them both as a sudden wind followed it, a moment’s time clothing them both in their costumes. Ruby banana peels dropped from Roman’s bolt of light to land right underneath the security officers’ feet, knocking them flat on their backs as they slipped. They struggled to stand, only to find the air itself preventing them from rising, pressing back against them in a stiff wind. Shoppers and bystanders scattered, screaming until they realized the two supers were focused on the security guards alone. A wall of air prevented the other employees from getting near as long red arm reached over into an open cash register. A fistful of bills made its way back to Roman, but not before a small piece detached and formed a small card.

Catching the cash, Roman gestured and lifted the shopping basket copy he’d just made out of the gliding door. “We’re Gucci,” he called to his partner. “Let’s blow this capitalist mess of a popsicle stand.” Patton grinned and zipped over, his propelling winds blowing receipts into the air. They turned to face the onlookers still staring in shock as they waved goodbye.

_"Mérci beaucoup,_ thank you, you delightful guys, gals, and nonbinary pals! You’ve been a _lovely_ audience,” Roman announced. “My compliments in particular to these brave souls, dedicated to defending the monetary gains of this gentrifying conglomerate of a grocery store, may your bosses recognize your efforts and give you all raises- _ahaha_ I’m sorry, I can’t say that with a straight face, goodness. My compliments and admiration also to the lovely person who hit a high C note in their scream, please quit your job and pursue your well-deserved career on the stage at once. And to you all, if you’d ever like to be dazzled once more, I have, of course, left our calling card. Goodnight, Harmony City!” With a twirl of his cape that showed off the intricate gold embroidery, Roman followed Patton out the door, towing his glowing red basket of groceries as they both soared into the night sky, laughing in triumph.

As they vanished, the air pressure released the security guards. They scrambled to their feet and ran to the cash register that had been emptied. All that was left were some singles and an ornate card as big as the shaking hand the first guard to reach it used to pick it up. A black background was emblazoned with a bold, curling red M on one side and a stylized white hurricane on the other. In embossed writing read a greeting that was as cheeky as the villain that had conjured it.

“You’ve Had the Pleasure of Being Robbed by Gale Force and the Crimson Marauder.”

* * *

**D.R.E.A.M. Index #337413  
** Classification: Class Z.2.iv [Secondary Tier Villain, unknown]  
Name: Crimson Marauder  
Status: ACTIVE  
Civilian Name: Unknown [Unregistered]  
_/////////_ Unconfirmed report that his first name is “Roman”  
Affiliation: Villain  
Partners/Sidekicks: DI#337437 - Gale Force;  
Primary Foes: DI#265351 - Commander Eagle, DI#337236 - Silver Sparrow  
_/////////_ No particular rivalries since Incident 15-Z-0632; has fought most heroes in the city  
Powers: Psionic Construction  
_/////////_ Appears to create constructs along the red light spectrum only unless it is a previously-created object being stored in a psionic pocket dimension  
Costume: Black Suit with Red Blocks, Gold Belt, Black and Red Cape with Gold accents; Black-and-gold mask  
Age: Approx 25 yrs [uncertain]  
Height: Approx. 6’  
Pronouns: He/Him  
_H.E.A.R.T.S. Class N/A_  
Note: Formerly known as Scarlet Prince, see DI#337321; Origin and family unknown

* * *

 The pair of thieves were still laughing at another successful heist was they soared south over the city, heading home with their newly-secured food. Roman spotted the space they called home and they banked as one, zooming into to land under an overpass in the neighborhood called Sycamore Heights. Once it had been indeed a high ground covered by those graceful trees, but those days were long past. Now it was the ‘rough’ neighborhood that parents cautioned their children to avoid, where car windows were rolled up as they passed through, and any crowds vanished as the streetlights came on.

It was also Roman’s home, and had been for his entire life. He stretched out an arm as they approached the overpass. What had previously resembled a dark black concrete slab grew a door in a flash of red light. Checking their surroundings, Roman waved an arm to welcome Patton in ahead of him.

The interior revealed itself to be a small sitting room, kitchen, and bedroom. An entire home was hidden inside the dark block, complete with knick-knacks and clutter. Patton took the basket of groceries and deposited them in the tiny fridge, whirling air into a cold front in lieu of electricity.

Roman flopped onto the deep red couch with a sigh, his costume vanishing in a flash as he removed his mask.

“Another successful grocery run. I liked how you pinned the guards this time, Pat. It kept all the civilians back neatly without hurting anyone,” he said, eyes closed as he leaned back onto the cushions. _I’m proud of you_ , he thought, but didn’t say out loud. He knew from experience that too much hinting that Patton’s typical methods were overly violent did not go over well.

“What can I say, Roro, I just want them to feel the pressure of their jobs. Literally!” Patton said, grinning as he shed his costume. He also fell onto the couch, wriggling over until he lay with his head across Roman’s lap. Roman smiled down at him. Even if his boyfriend scared him occasionally, he was so glad to have met him. Life on the streets as a super had never been easy, but having a partner he could trust with his life made it just a bit better. And having a partner like Patton who spent 90% of his time in a blissfully sunshine state of mind was even better than he could have imagined. All Patton seemed to want in return for his perpetual optimism and protection were daily cuddles and love, and Roman was only too happy to oblige. Even with the high of a heist well done, the night was creeping in and with it, the dark cloud of _alone again_.

He hated this dark tide that refused to stay receded. Some days he felt quite literally on top of the world as he reached new heights in his flight and construct creation alike. He’d be seized by the inexorable urge to create, and create, and create, surrounding himself with new and more ambitious constructs as the haze of euphoria roared through his veins. Those days burned in red and gold, the way it should be. Just like the day he manifested his powers, when he’d filled his old room and spooked his… well. Those days were his favorite. Even if he sometimes got carried away, and felt unable to stop moving at 100 miles an hour. They were still preferable to the days when the air itself was a weight, when it was all he could do to drag himself out of bed. The world on those days looked as bleak as his head felt, all greys, no reds at all, not outside his window or at his fingertips. The only reason his home didn’t melt away on those days was because of how long it had persisted in this exact form. All other constructs lost their form, unable to maintain without his concentration or energy. He needed Patton the most those days, to make him eat, to keep him from vegetating into nothing. Pat would pull him into his lap and sing nursery rhymes both traditional and of his own invention, throwing in puns and blowing paper animals to dance around their tiny shared room.

Roman was glad he didn’t need to be in a depressive episode to get this sort of treatment, because he loved how soft his love went when he was in this mode, a caretaker role that felt maybe like a parent, maybe an older brother. Patton’s toothy smile moved more naturally, not acting like a perpetual fixture, but a true demonstration of emotion. His voice danced and dove and trilled along stories of fairies and talking animals and pastel women from space. But his use of his powers was the most different. When Patton was in what Ro privately called ‘Puffball Mode,’ his power was no longer a weapon that could be wielded anywhere, even within others’ lungs. It wasn’t a tool or means of transportation. It was just _joy._ It was a puppy, flopping around the room and picking up everything that looked bright or shiny. It was a butterfly, paper wings flapping gently before coming to rest on Roman’s nose. It was a warm breeze that smelled like childhood and dreams that had yet to be abandoned.  

They had fantastic powers that set them apart from the vast majority of society, but Patton and Roman were, above all, the owners of many broken things. Their lives had prepared them for this, of course. You don’t survive a life of poverty or foster care without knowing how to fix broken things, without knowing just how far you can push their use before their purpose completely fails. Shoes with holes. Teddy bears without their stuffing. Books without covers. Hearts that have been shattered. Hope that’s been all but lost.

Roman wrapped his arms tighter around Patton as the ginger-haired man removed his glasses and snuggled into his partner’s chest. Yes, they were both broken. That didn’t bother Roman one bit, though. What mattered was that together, they were just a little less so, and together, they’d show a city that called them villains just what it meant when those with the most experience came to fix a broken world.

* * *

**D.R.E.A.M. Index #337437  
** Classification: Z.1.iv [Primary Tier Villain, unknown origin]  
Status: ACTIVE  
Name: Gale Force  
Civilian Name: Unknown [Unregistered]  
_/////////_ Unconfirmed report that first name is “Pat”  
Affiliation: Villain  
Partners/Sidekicks: DI#337413 - Crimson Marauder  
Primary Foes: N/A  
_/////////_ No particular rivalries, has fought most heroes in the city  
Powers: Air Manipulation - Broad Spectrum; Additional Powers Unknown  
Costume: Grey calf-length tunic, slits up to waist with loose sleeves over loose white trousers; light blue belt; matching blue symbol of a hurricane across the chest. Does not wear a mask.  
  _/////////_ First appearance - no costume, just a blue work polo, cream slacks, and gray sweater  
Age: Unknown  
_/////////_ Estimates range from 18 to 26  
Pronouns: [Unknown]  
_/////////_ Believed to be he/him  
_H.E.A.R.T.S. Class N/A  
_Note: Highly volatile, responsible for deaths of DI#265351 and DI#337236, see Incident Report 15-Z-0632; Family and origin unknown


	2. The Best of Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry for the delay in this chapter - life is a Bit Crazy at the moment! Hope you like this introduction to the heroes.  
> [and if you want to name that Panic! lyric and/or send me good vibes for the standardized test results i’m currently waiting on pls do]

The air was crisp today, hinting towards the kisses of frost to come. _Book weather,_ thought the bespectacled man walking down the street. In just a few more weeks, it would be the perfect temperature for a mug of earl grey and a stack or five of new novels and journal articles. But not quite yet. Today was a day for something a little less solitary. His mother had called him to her and his father’s lab with a tease at some tantalizing finding. She knew he wouldn’t be able to resist.

Thinking of solitude, the man slipped his phone out of his pocket and called one of the five numbers he had on speed dial. The other end of the line rang over and over until a voice husky with grogginess finally picked up.

“Whatizit Lo, ‘m sleeping”

“Good morning, Virgil. You really shouldn’t be still in bed this late in the morning. It’s almost noon.”

“Yeah, I know. Couldn’t sleep last night, though.”

“Couldn’t? Or just didn’t?”

Silence answered Logan’s query. He let it drag on for just a moment longer.

“...Didn’t,” Virgil finally admitted. “I was… antsy. Again.”

“How many seasons?”

“Goddammit Lo, can’t you let me keep my dignity.”

“How many, Virge?”

“...all seven. And the bloopers.”

Logan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We’ve talked about this, Virgil. This sort of disruption to your circadian rhythm…”

“I know, I know. I really didn’t mean to, I swear. I tried to sleep and all I could do was… cycle.”

“Ah. Was it about-”

“Yes.”

“That’s the third time in the last week, V. It’s not getting better.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“I don’t point it out because I think you’re unaware. I just think it might be time you tried to get better help. Or if you’re still worried about that prospect, we can at least get you some sleep aids. Melatonin, for instance, has very minor side effects, it might help.”

“...yeah. You’re right. I’ll try the sleepy pills. And I’ll… I’ll think about the other thing. I promise.”

“I’m glad,” Logan said with a slight smile.

A moment passed, the silence allowing a mutual exchange of affection that used exactly as many words as each friend needed or wanted for such an exchange.

“Wait, if you didn’t know that I was up late, why were you calling?” Virgil asked as the moment passed.

“Mom and Dad have something to show me at the lab, and they’re being cagey in that way they do when they think it’s particularly exciting. I was calling to ask if you wanted to come with. They always enjoy having you visit.”

“Well, how can I pass up an opportunity to see the doctors? Sure, I’ll come. Gimme ten minutes before you get here, kay?”

“Excellent. I’ll see you shortly.”

 

Logan hung up on his friend and looked at the street signs. Virgil lived in outskirts of the far northwest of the city, practically in the suburbs, and Logan was almost at the university in the southeast, just a few blocks from the harbor. To cross the entire city on foot could take the average, healthy adult about 3 hours. Logan’s height may have been below average, but that was the only thing about him that was.

With a glance around him for bystanders, Logan checked that his phone was secure in his pocket and took out his glasses case. He took out a pair of black-and-white goggles and switched them out for his normal glasses, then braced himself and began to run. The world outside the circles of his goggle lenses blurred as he eased into his casual jogging speed of about sixty miles per hour. He had to give Virgil a full ten minutes, after all. His muscular thighs would barely get stretched at such an easy pace.

He easily dodged pedestrians and obstacles as he made his way across the city. He even added an extra loop around Harmony Circle in the dead center of the city, admiring the bronze statue of the city’s founders, two of the earliest-known supers. The sculptor had done an excellent job of capturing motion within cast metal. Especially on a day like today, the light caught the individual feathers on the woman’s wings so well that she looked ready to complete her frozen leap from the pedestal into the day’s brisk wind. Her companion watched her flight just as Logan did, but instead of running on toned human legs, he reared on two equine ones, his forelegs raised in a graceful pesade.

Logan continued on, mentally reminding himself to add a book or two about the history of supers back to his reading list. He couldn’t quite recall when the first non-animal-based superpowers had been identified, and he was fairly certain that the separation of obvious morphological powers versus more subtle or internal powers had a long history of discourse. Maybe his parents would have some suggested reading.

He arrived at Virgil’s apartment building and checked his watch. 9 and half minutes. Right on time.

He swapped back to his regular glasses and jogged at a normal pace up the exterior stairs to Virgil’s apartment. His friend opened the door just as he went to knock.

“Fuck, L, you’re always so _prompt_ . You know I won’t be mad if you take eleven minutes one of these days, right?.”

“What can I say? I’m overcome by a titillating, tingling sensation whenever I’m perfectly on time.”

“...Lo, buddy, love ya, but maybe _never_ say that again where people can hear you.”

Virgil turned and locked his door behind him and lead the way back down the stairs. Logan followed his much taller friend, the difference of stairs bringing them to almost the same height. As they came out to the sidewalk, Virge huddled further into his baggy hoodie. Even hunched over, he still towered over most people they passed and certainly over Logan. Logan understood the urge to not be noticed, he supposed, but it still baffled him how much his best friend tried to hide in plain sight when he was so able to protect himself due to the sheer extent of his power.

Virgil glanced around, pulling back the sides of the hood that blocked his peripheral vision. “Are we taking the fastest way to see your parents?” he asked. “Or are we going to use the metro I keep hearing people complain about when it’s delayed?”

Logan smiled, a tiny grin that few got to see aside from his family and best friend. “You of all people should know how much I loathe _delays._ We’ll go the normal way.”

The taller man flashed his companion a matching smile. “Normal stakes?”

A smirking response accompanied the switch from glasses to goggles. “If you’re willing to risk yet another defeat.”

“Oh fuck you, that was literally the first time in _months_ -”

“I’m sorry, I seem to be unable to hear you over the sound of my impending victory, _threetwoonego._ ”

Logan was off and running before Virgil could swear at him again. With a last glance to make sure no one was passing, Virgil leapt into the air to chase after his _smug-ass-motherfucker_ of a friend.

He flew directly skywards, soaring vertically until he passed the cloud line before wheeling and zooming towards the university. As self-conscious as his flashy powers made him, there was something so pure about flight that never got old. How many kids spent hours jumping off beds and rocks and tree branches, hoping that one day they’d stay aloft? How many kids besides him had actually _done_ it?

The voice in his head that sounded like remembered answers to exam questions and also like Logan helpfully reminded him that “Individuals with enhanced abilities make up approximately 1 to 2% of the population. Within that group, flight is one of the most common abilities, with approximately 30% of known people with enhanced abilities being able to fly, whether with or without wings.”

Still zooming through the air, Virgil rolled his eyes at the internal Logan. He was quite aware of how rare having even one ability was, let alone three. He was the only one in a family of five kids and two moms to have even a glimmer of power - it wasn’t exactly _news_.

Plus, statistics took the joy out of everything.

He was nearing the university, so he risked dropping below cloud cover to look for the blur of motion that was Logan. Ah, there he was. Could Virgil beat him?

 _Hell yeah_ , he could.

A final push of speed and gravity sent him wheeling down to land with both feet on the university steps, moments before the blur of blue resolved itself back into a standing Logan.

“What was that about an impending victory there, L? It appears _someone_ owes me one very large frappe in the very near future.”

“Hm, what was that? I think I hear my parents calling me,” the shorter man said, switching back to glasses with the lightest of pink in his cheeks.

Virgil caught up to his friend as he pushed through the entryway, jostling a friendly elbow into his shoulder. Logan winced and grabbed the shoulder in question as Virgil’s smile and high mood melted away in an instant.

“L, I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

“V, it’s quite alright-”

“Did I hurt you?”

“Virgil, I’m fine.”

“Is there a bruise?”

“...There may be. It was just a _touch_ too hard. Nothing more. It’s alright, Virgil,” Logan said softly, reaching a hand up to lightly brush Virgil’s shoulder.

The ice in his stomach hadn’t faded. He’d messed up, _again_. Why couldn’t he just judge his own strength like a goddamn normal person? Why did he keep hurting the people he cared about?

Logan’s hand returned to his shoulder as the younger man’s voice cut through the internal chastising.

“Virgil. I mean it. I was more surprised than anything, that’s why I winced. Anyone could have done that, even a civilian.” His voice was low and soft, not carrying at all. There was no one else to be seen in the hall with them, but there was also no harm in being cautious. “It’s alright. I’m not hurt. _Breathe_ , Virge. Okay?”

The roar of shame and guilt in his head began to quiet, the ice in his stomach melting from the warmth of Logan’s hand on his shoulder. Too much contact right now would send him from ice to vapor, a hot gas ready to explode. But this was just enough. He breathed, deep, fighting back the hiccups, forcing his diaphragm and lungs to cooperate. Slow is best. If his lungs slowed enough, his heart would follow and stop trying to dance a frantic jig out of his chest. Logan was okay, he had said so himself. So Virgil would be, too. _Just a couple more breaths._

Logan felt the ebbing of tension from muscled shoulders and withdrew his hand. He waited a moment, then started to walk again, leading the way to his parents’ lab.

Classes were clearly ending, as a trickle and then a flood of people just a bit younger than Virgil and Logan filled the halls, their chatter ricocheting off stone walls. Their presence sent Virgil hunching further into his sweatshirt as he pulled the hood up again. The dark fabric mostly hid the bright purple of the hair falling into his face, and the shadow of his hood paired with his slouch meant few even tried to make eye contact as they passed.

Logan, on the other hand, received a handful of greetings from students and TAs. He was here often, enough for some to recognize him as his parents’ son, but he’d also been a student here not too long ago. Many of the TAs he passed had been part of the same entering class as he when they were all selected as PhD candidates four years ago. Just like so many aspects of his life, however, Logan had been just a bit _faster_ than average. He’d finished in two years, and now held a doctorate in physics. He didn’t tend to use his title in daily life, as two Dr. Lancasters under one roof was confusing enough. But he’d never presume to claim the title for his alter ego if he hadn’t actually earned it.

The two friends navigated through the tide of students and finally arrived in a quieter part of the building, letting themselves into the lab whose brass nameplate declared it to belong to “Dr. A. Lancaster,” while a second plaque in brighter brass proclaimed that it was shared by “Dr. P. Lancaster.”

A centrifuge rumbled in the corner as Logan crossed through lab benches to greet his parents. Virgil hung back, letting the family have a moment. Logan clearly took after his father in build, with maybe half an inch difference in their heights. His mother, on the other hand, was tall and willowy, but of course, her legacy was well-represented in her son, too. She turned and saw Virgil in the door and greeted him with a broad smile. “Virgil! So good to see you!”

“Always a pleasure, Dr. Lancaster,” Virgil said, removing his hood.

“Virgil, how many times do I need to tell you to call me Portia?”

Virgil smirked. “At least once more, as always.”

Logan’s father grinned hugely at the young man who easily towered over him. “Virge, buddy! How’s it going, big guy?”

“Doin’ good, thanks Dr. Lancs.”

“More like Lancs-a-Lot!” the jolly scientist replied with a smile, ignoring his son’s quiet groan.

“Virgil, I’ve told you how weird it is that _I_ call them Portia and Atticus and yet you don’t, right?” Logan asked drily, knowing his friend’s answer already.

“Yes, Lo, you have, but Mum and Mama taught me to be respectful,” Virgil said, carefully accepting a hug from a beaming Atticus. “Anyway, wasn’t there some fancy science you wanted to show us - well, show Logan, and I’m tagging along?”

“Ah yes, of course! We’re both quite pleased," Portia replied, pushing a stray hair back into her sensible bun. "I believe I’ve found a way to improve the E.A.N.S.C., and make it less likely that certain acquaintances of yours will continue to escape.”

Logan took a seat on a stool, immediately interested. “Oh, did you discover what was creating the glitches? Or did you just find a refinement technique without picking out a specific cause?”

Atticus smiled at his son's enthusiasm. “We believe there’s a wider variation needed in the mood stabilizers than previously thought. So in order to account for that without further side effects, I’m experimenting with-”

A sudden vibration on their wrists jolted both Virgil and Logan into standing in a clatter of stools. What appeared to be plain analog watches on their left wrists were pulsing with a light from under the dial, blinking coordinates onto the watch face. Logan swore under his breath. “Mom, I was going to help Jem with their essay this afternoon- let them know I might be late or miss it entirely?”

“Of course, sweetie,” Portia replied. “Duty calls. They’ll understand.”

“Love you both,” Logan said quietly as Atticus clapped him on the shoulder.

Virgil nodded to both scientists, accepting their concern as he pulled Logan to the window. “Change here, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Both men blurred, moving quicker than the unaided eye could follow. Logan replaced his glasses with goggles once more, but now his sensible slacks and polo had been replaced as well. A bodysuit in black and navy was in their place, a bold stripe of white from shoulder to waist and back creating a huge V across his chest, matching the white and black of his goggles. His demeanor had changed. Nervous energy crackled through his system, his focus no longer on questions of biology and discoveries but on the unknown.

Virgil’s change had been even more dramatic. Gone were the baggy hoodie and loose jeans that the taller man spent so much time hiding in. His only concealment now was a plain black mask across his eyes. A sleeveless bodysuit exposed his curved and muscled arms and shoulders, with the tight performance fabric revealing that the rest of his body was just as powerful. The abstract blocks of purple, black, and white that made up his suit weren’t quite enough to distract from the raw power he appeared to give off as he straightened to his full height of over six feet for the first time that day. He pushed his silver-and-purple cape over one shoulder as he opened the huge window in the lab wall. As sunlight poured in, it glinted off his belt buckle, a work in silver fashioned as a stylized ‘R’. He gestured for Logan to lead. “To the Mayor’s office. After you.”

“Make us proud, Lo,” Portia called to her son, one hand gripping her husband’s tightly.

"Go get'em, Doctor!" his father added.

Logan nodded to his parents and Virgil before running straight out the window. The lab was on the second floor, yes, but it was hardly an effort to just run faster than gravity’s pull to allow himself to reach the ground of his own volition. He picked up speed as he reached the grass square of the campus quad, not checking to see if Virgil was following. He trusted that his partner was above him, soaring just as fast towards Harmony City Hall.

 

* * *

 **D.R.E.A.M. Index #337255  
** Classification: Class A.2.i [Secondary Tier Hero, Legacy]  
Name: Doctor Vectorious  
Status: ACTIVE  
Civilian Name: [CLEARANCE: TOP SECRET] Logan Lancaster  
Affiliation: Hero  
 _/////////H.A.T.C.H. Status: On Call  
_ Partners/Sidekicks: DI#537405 - Reflex;  
Primary Foes: DI#337397 - Moonshadow; DI #337498 - The Violet Condor;  
Powers: Speed - Broad Spectrum  
Costume: Dark blue and black bodysuit, white V, black-and-white goggles  
Age: 22  
Height: 5’5”  
Pronouns: He/Him  
 _H.E.A.R.T.S. Class of ‘11; Advanced studies Class of ‘14_  
Note: Son of DI#265345 - Professor Polarity; Earned his PhD in Physics from University of Harmony City in 2016

* * *

 Adrenaline and powers together got them to the mayor’s office in a matter of seconds. They walked in together in full costume. The receptionist was well-acquainted with the pair and waved them in, a slight blush dusting his face as he watched Virgil pass his desk, cape fluttering lightly behind him.

Mayor Stokes was waiting for them in front of their desk as they fiddled with the comms system of City Hall.

“Ah, Doctor, ‘Flex, thank you for arriving so quickly. I apologize - there is not an active situation at this time. I just need your help.”

Virgil’s shoulders dropped. “Fuck’s sake, Joan, warn a dude next time. I almost broke your sidewalk when I landed, I was so nervous.”

Logan pushed his goggles up on top of his head, ignoring the haphazard effect on his hair. “If it was still urgent enough to call us with H.A.T.C.H., what’s going on?”

Joan gestured to the chairs near the window. “I’ll explain, but I’m calling in the expert for when I inevitably fuck up the details. Have a seat, you two. How’re the ‘rents, Doctor?”

“They’re well, and possibly on the verge of a new discovery, thank you, Mayor Stokes.”

“Doc, you know I only use your super name because you’re in costume and here in an official capacity. You _really_ don’t need to use my title, pretty sure everyone in the city knows the “secret identity” that is my actual legal first name,” the young mayor responded, making air quotes with their fingers.

“It feels improper. You’re here in an official capacity the same way I am,” Logan responded, shifting his chair so he could stand quickly at need. “Just because you’re acquainted with my parents…”

“Know your parents, known you since diapers, babysitted you and your siblings, wrote your recommendation to the PhD program…”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Joan, you should know better than to ask Doctor _Laborious_ over here to do anything against the letter of the rules.”

“I live in hope that one day he’ll run so fast that he’ll lose the stick in his ass,” Joan said, winking at Virgil, who snorted both at the comment and at the way Logan’s face contorted in outrage and offense. The speedster opened his mouth to speak when the door across the office slammed open and a brightly-colored head appeared, saying “Sorry I’m late!”

Joan brightened and went over to the door, kissing their partner’s cheek as Talyn pulled a pen out of where they’d stashed it in their bright pink hair. “Doctor Vectorious, Reflex, excellent. I have some news to share.”

“Is this news from our friend Talyn or from Talyn Stokes, Secretary of the Enhanced Abilities Ministry?” Virgil asked, flicking them a two-fingered salute. Talyn face was sober as they took a stylus and laptop out of their bag.

“I’m wearing my S.E.A.M. hat today. We have identified a threat to the city that is much more dangerous than previously thought.”

Logan and Virgil both sat at attention, waiting for them to continue, all jokes from moments before thrown aside. Talyn hit a button on the wall to turn on a projector, displaying grainy footage of two forms soaring above office buildings somewhere in the business district.

“We captured this from an ATM camera in Southeast, right off the bay. This was on Saturday - the same day that one of our newest sidekicks, Emerald Prodigy, came in for emergency care. He’d been almost choked to death - without being touched. It appears to be linked to a villain who first emerged two, almost three years ago: Gale Force. We still have very few details about Gale Force, including no idea of pronouns, but whoever they are, they now seem to be working in tandem with a villain we’re more familiar with - The Crimson Marauder.”

Logan scowled at the mention of the Marauder. Of all the villains, the psionic constructor made the least sense to the speedster. But unless it was relevant to the mission at hand, he wouldn’t bring up those particular grievances now.

Talyn continued. “This incident on Saturday was just case of trespassing, on the H.E.A.R.T.S. campus. Alone, it wouldn’t be so disturbing, but Terr- uh, Swallowtail and I did some research on other recent incidents and were able to link them to a string of events going back to when Gale Force first emerged on the scene.”

They clicked a button and more footage and stills appeared. Joan came forward and took over. “They’re vandalized a series of buildings, both government and private,” they pointed to pictures where red graffiti of pigs danced on plate glass windows, and dollar bills weeping blood-red tears covered marble pillars, “they vandalized, mugged, and finally attacked and killed door-to-door salespeople selling questionable insurance in Sycamore Heights, and they caused mass panic in a crowded theater this spring. Here, watch,” they said, playing a clip clearly pulled from a cell phone. A brightly lit stage filled with colorfully-dressed actors was suddenly interrupted by the sound of what appeared to be a gunshot, or at the very least, highly compressed air. A red-and-black form appeared on center stage, yelling at the audience and actors alike. The exact words being shouted were mostly obscured by screams of the panicked crowd, but words like “gender roles,” “archaic,” and “disGRACE!” were audible. Joan looked over at the two heroes. “The play was _Kiss Me, Kate_. Valid objections, possibly, but three members of the audience were hospitalized for injuries in the scramble, and one actor with a heart condition was in critical condition for over a day.”

“Fuck, what happened to a strongly-worded editorial in the Chronicle?” Virgil asked.

“He’s a _villain,_ Vir- I mean, Reflex,” Logan interrupted. “Of _course_ he won’t just pick the nonviolent option.”

Joan looked like they were about to add something, but thought better of it. “Here, Doc, you’ll like this part. They also assisted Moonshadow on their most recent bank heist. By the time we figured out who was there, all three were gone, with only video footage as a trace. That, and the missing million dollars.”

Logan frowned. “Moonshadow? I thought I was always on call for them. Everyone else is too easily susceptible to their power.”

Talyn cut in from where they were sitting at their partner’s desk. “We don't think they all collaborated on purpose - I believe this duo was robbing the bank for their own purposes and Moonshadow took advantage. Thanks to the distraction of these two, though, we didn’t figure out it was them until they'd all fled. We had to extract it from the security feeds.” With a grumble, Logan nodded to Joan to continue.

“These are all the events we’ve been able to explicitly prove were linked to these two villains. Unconfirmed reports include holding up various big box stores and supermarkets, vandalism of surveyor equipment, theft, etcetera. I also can’t prove this, but I think they might have interfered in the appearances of several public officials including myself.” They cleared their throat. “Early this year, I was trying to give a speech on a new initiative on super-civilian relations, with reforming villains as a hopeful goal. Except every time I tried to speak, my throat kept catching and all I could do was wheeze and cough. I thought I was just sick at the time, but I got better immediately after I went inside, away from the crowds. Hearing how Emerald Prodigy described his symptoms from Gale Force’s attack, however, I realize there’s a high chance the same thing happened to me.”

Virgil closed his eyes, tapping his temples as he contemplated. “So I’m not getting a particular M.O. here. They seem pretty impulsive, no particular target in mind. They don’t seem that _malicious_ , though. Just chaotic.”

“But we last caught them scouting out HEARTS. It’s possible they just mean to vandalize, but in all these other cases, they were never seen around the target in advance - their first appearance was on the day of the crime in question. That points to something big coming, something they actually need to plan for,” Talyn pointed out, as Logan nodded. “They’ve been… unpredictable. Definitely impulsive. But unfortunately, they’re very powerful, and we don’t even know if we’ve seen the full extent of their powers.”

Virgil grimaced. “Do we have any communication with them? Any connection?”

Joan fiddled with a pen, not meeting the hero’s eyes. “We know next to nothing about Gale Force. We know… some things about the Crimson Marauder. I know Doc does, at least. But whether or not it’s still relevant remains to be seen.”

“L- I mean, Doc?”

“The Crimson Marauder wasn’t always a villain, ‘Flex. He was a hero, once. And he turned away,” Logan said tightly. Virgil looked over, surprised at the wrath in his friend’s voice, but Logan continued speaking before Virgil could ask any follow-up. “Any idea where they’re headed next?”

“They scouted out HEARTS. That’s all we have to go on. I don’t want to waste you two on stakeout detail, but we really have no idea where else they might go,” Talyn replied, concern furrowing a line across their brow. “And it’s too important to risk.”

Logan and Virgil made eye contact across the table. “Sounds like it’s our best shot,” Virgil said. “I don’t love the idea of just waiting, but that’s what we have. Shall we?”

Logan nodded. “Time to get to work, ‘Flex. Let’s go back to school.”

* * *

 **D.R.E.A.M. Index #337405  
** Classification: Class A.1.iii [Primary Tier Hero, Anomaly]  
Name: Reflex  
Status: ACTIVE  
Civilian Name: [CLEARANCE: TOP SECRET] Virgil Skylar  
Affiliation: Hero  
 _/////////H.A.T.C.H. Status: On Call  
_ Partners/Sidekicks: DI#337255 - Dr. Vectorious  
Primary Foes: N/A  
Powers: Flight, Strength - Broad Spectrum, Stun - Area of Effect  
Costume: Sleeveless purple suit with diagonal white blocks, silver belt with R; silver-and-purple cape  
Age: 24  
Height: 6’3”  
Pronouns: He/Him  
 _H.E.A.R.T.S. Class of ‘14_  
Note: Only super within known family; one of the most powerful heroes currently active in Harmony City


	3. Only Gold is Hot Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman isn't _always_ the bad guy. Or at least, he wasn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest single chapter I've ever written. Be prepared. 
> 
> Content warnings: Angst; Poverty; Fire; Graphic descriptions of violence; OC character death(s); Underage drinking; Emetophobia/vomit; Descriptions of manic and depressive episodes; [I think that’s it, please let me know if I missed anything]

Roman Fitzroy was a very creative child. He loved art class and had practically burst with excitement when his kindergarten class had put on a tiny skit of a play. His mother Tamora was still very surprised when she came into their rooms one day to find _hundreds_ of stuffed animals, all in various shades of red. There were lions and dragons, puppies and snakes - piles of animals both real and mythical, all plush red velvet and surrounding the six-year-old in an enormous heap. Tamora stopped short, wondering how on _earth_ she was going to afford whatever this was.

Then her son noticed her entering.

“Hey look, Ma! I made these!” He laughed and clapped glowing red hands, and two kitten plushies popped into being at her feet. She knelt down to pick one up, buying time to process her emotions. She’d seen sparks when he was an infant, but superpowers were always so come-and-go in young children. Powers that took the type of focus Roman was currently displaying usually took many more years to fully manifest.

But that just made him all the more brilliant, didn’t it?

Kitten in hand, she scooped up her son into her arms.

“There’s my best boy, Ro! These are so pretty! How did you make them?”

“I dreamed them, _Maman!_ Miss Lopez at school says that if you have dreams, and you believe in them with all your heart, you can make them real and she was right!”

Tamora braced him against her hip as she stared into his round, grinning face. He was starting to get almost too big to carry - it wasn’t just his powers that were growing. “She was right, _mon petit prince_. And you are just so special that you can make things even more real than your friends. Can you be even more special and clean them all up, too?”

Roman hugged his mom around the neck. “ _Mamaaan_ , do I have to?” he whined.

“Yes, baby, we have to make dinner and Mama’s gonna trip over all these friends. You can bring them back later, okay?”

“Okayyyy,” the boy replied, wriggling out of her hold. He held up his hands as they glowed red once more. A flash of red through the room, and the pile vanished save the kitten still in his mother’s hands.

“Look, Ma! I did it!”

“Yes you did, _chéri!_ I’m so proud of you!”

Tamora moved into the kitchen area of their one-bedroom apartment, calculating and re-calculating her savings. She know there was a school for kids just like him that started as young as pre-school and went up through high school, specifically to help young supers learn about and control their powers. She’d looked into it the first time her baby’s hands had glowed red, but knew she could hold out at least until he started deliberately using his powers. But there was an enrollment fee. Not that much, all things considered - guaranteed twelve years of school for a one-time payment of $500. But that was $500 she did not have to spare. Between her two jobs, she had enough to keep her son fed, and herself too, mostly. She could just barely afford to give something to their elderly neighbor who walked him home from school in the afternoon. She sighed and rubbed her temples as she paused from mixing up hot dogs, rice, and peas for the third time this week. If she started saving now, cutting back everywhere she could, she might be able to get him into the super school by next school year, in about nine months.

_Please, mon Dieu. I just want what’s best for my boy._

Eight months later, her tire blew just as she arrived home. With growing dismay, she realized one tire was burst, one was slowly deflating, and the tread on the other two was almost perfectly smooth from wear. Even if she went to her favorite mechanic, the one who’d give her a friends-and-family discount, it would be at least $400 to get her car on the road again. It hurt her heart to take from the school fund, but without her car, she couldn’t make it to either of her jobs. Roman needed a safe place to sleep and food to eat more than he needed a super-centric school. She’d have to keep saving. Next school year, then, God willing.

Another long, cold winter later, the heating bill had been higher than planned three months longer than she’d expected. And now the water bill, too. And Roman was bursting out the the seams of his sneakers and needed new ones.

Tamora sighed, watching her light, her joy sleep as she stayed awake, adding and re-adding their expenses. She just couldn’t save enough. Other moms in her position might be able to ask family, but Tamora and Roman were on their own. Roman’s biological father was long gone, and good riddance. Her parents had disowned her when she’d insisted on keeping her child. The man might have been a mistake, but she knew from the first wriggle in her womb that this precious child would be worth it. Watching him experiment with his powers and greet the world as a buffet of possibilities, she knew she’d been right. He deserved the best the world could offer. She might not be able to swing that, not fully, but she could get him to this school.

She needed a third job. Harmony City wasn’t exactly flush in the kinds of jobs one could work while holding two more at the same time, so she’d need to take precious time away from her son to search. _Please, mon Dieu. Let this be enough._

He was young, but life in the Heights meant he was aware. “ _Maman_ , it’s okay if I can’t go to the special school. I don’t need to have powers. I have you and Ms. Jackson, I’ll be ok.”

Her heart had threatened to shatter on the kitchen floor as she jumped to interrupt him. “Ro, don’t give up! It’s just... a little complicated. I’ll get you there, _mon chére_. Don’t ever give up on yourself, don’t ever change, my sweet. You’re going to be something great. I _promise_.”

Roman was eight (“eight and a  _half!_ ”) when she finally found a third job. So many hours of waiting, so many forms filled out, so many rejection calls or lack thereof. It was nights, but Ro was so self-sufficient already. He knew to not open the door. He knew to keep talk shows on, to make it sound like he wasn’t alone. And he was learning so much on his own of how to use his powers, playing with all the shades of red, from so-pale-it’s-white to so-dark-it’s-black. Super school would be so good for him, and be able to help him in ways even his mama never could.

Tamora came home from the successful call. She was home early, with extra time tonight before the job started tomorrow. Roman was interrupted from a complex game between glowing animal tribes by his mother grabbing him from behind and swinging him in her arms.

“Baby, mama did it! I’ve got the job and I am going to send you to school!”

“ _Maman_ , you mean it? I’m gonna go to hero school?”

“ _Oui, mon petit prince!_ So, so soon, I promise!”

She always knew her baby would be a hero. She couldn’t wait until the world knew it, too.

 

Roman had adjusted to less time with his mom at nights, getting himself ready for bed. He had his animals and creations to keep him entertained. On nights when he got particularly lonely, he conjured a glowing version of his Ma to cuddle with. But his constructs had no heat, nor thoughts or actions of their own. He’d once gotten a tiny dragon to move autonomously, but it had given him a headache, and it had dissipated entirely the minute he lost focus.

The first day he woke up with his mother still gone, he hadn’t immediately been scared. Maybe it was just a very late night, or she’d forgotten to tell him she had an early shift too. He’d gone to school and come home as normal, walked there and back by Ms. Jackson from next door.

That night, he’d stayed up until his eyelids couldn’t, waiting for her return, and awoke in a pile of stuffed animals in the living room. Some had morphed in his sleep, growing ferocious teeth, or losing limbs and eyes. He shivered as he looked at the piles around him, causing them to vanish down to just a select three - a teddy bear, an owl, and a dragon. Clutching them to his chest, he wandered around their small rooms, looking for his mom. His distress was starting to build when the sounds of the TV, left on for safety and company, cut through the haze to reach his brain.

“Reports are now trickling in, confirming that the Fang Patrol has struck again. After their last defeat at the hands of Commander Eagle, they have apparently resorted to taking hostages. We go now to Camden Foote, who is on the scene in Sycamore Heights. Cam, what can you tell us about this latest strategy?”

“Thanks, Kaimi. It’s a new low for any villain syndicate here in Harmony City, that’s for sure. Fang Patrol is relatively old for a villain team, as infighting usually brings them down within a year. However, the Commander’s recent disruption of their plot to release additives into the water supply has apparently sent them into a tailspin. We’ve now been able to confirm that they are holding at least 15 hostages from throughout the city. At this time, all confirmed reports are civilians, with no known enhanced abilities. It’s a strong breach of the normal rules of engagement for supers in the city.”

The newscaster adjusted in her seat, silver threads in her hijab glinting in the studio lights. “Can you tell us how so many hostages were taken? Do we know who they are?”

“Unfortunately, it appears that the Patrol targeted residents of Sycamore Heights in particular through false job postings, advertising night shifts. In all likelihood, they were relying on the relative desperation of this neighborhood to conceal the disappearances. It’s yet another unfortunate example of how the area has struggled to recover fully since the days of Armageddon back in ‘63, and the widespread structural damage that he caused.” An inset video cut to familiar footage, a shaky camera capturing a man clad all in black as magma poured out of the ground beneath his feet. Roman had seen it before, and could practically hear the screams and swears of the amateur reporter who’d captured it despite the lack of audio. “The devastation has continued recently, with several prominent battles taking place here, including the raid on The Mystic Magician’s lab earlier this year, and the effects reverberate through today.” The footage switched, now much steadier and clearer. Caped and costumed figures moved against a fiery backdrop as they carried out children and teens. The footage was pixelated over the minors’ faces, but it was impossible to hide the scales, feathers, and other mutations growing from their young bodies.

“What can we expect as a response from the city government and its heroes, Cam?”

The reporter straightened. “Well, Kaimi, we know that hostage situations can be quite delicate. Expert observers suspect that Mayor Anastasio will attempt to open a dialogue with the Patrol, and hopefully determine what exactly their demands are, if any. Unfortunately, that will take time to even reach out, and we have no way of knowing what the Patrol plans for the civilians in the meantime.”

“We will have to put our trust in the hero teams that remain to launch a successful extraction,” the newscaster said as the camera cut back to her alone. “It’s at times like these that we feel the loss of the Golden Age groups, including the celebrated Forces of Nature group led by Professor Polarity. Here to discuss the evolving world of supers, we have a professor of history and biology from the University of Harmony City, Dr. Atticus Lancaster…”

Roman heard nothing more. He was already tearing into his neighbor’s apartment, diving into Ms. Jackson’s hold. Her news was on, too, but she’d turned it off as he entered in a clatter and splash of tears. Neither wanted to say it, but they both knew. Tamora’s night job had been no such thing. Roman’s mom was a hostage of the notorious Fang Patrol.

The city was able to successfully string out negotiations over the typical villain demands (“Mayor Anastasio hands over the key to the city! All the villains in captivity are released! We will rule the world, starting with Harmony City!”) over three days until a team of heroes was able to launch a full rescue operation. To the relief of the administration and residents alike, almost all the hostages were saved with only a few bruises to show for it.

 _Almost_ all.

Roman doesn't talk about the day the In Memoriam list was published from the raid against the gang. He also doesn't talk about the three and a half years he lived at his grandfather's house. Only his closest partners and friends ever learn Guilliam Fitzroy’s name. Whatever had happened in that time, it was enough that a particularly extreme manic episode carried Roman out of the house and onto the street at twelve years old.

He would be a _real_ hero. Not like those adults who lived in soft, clean houses who worked with flashy suits and flashier cameras. He would make sure there’d _never_ be casualties. What was the point of powers, anyway, if you still had to accept collateral damage?

* * *

 

Learning to be a hero had been tough. Evenings spent bandaging up his own bruises and cuts made him almost grateful to life with Grandpère for the experience. _Almost_ , but not quite. At least out here on the streets of the Heights, he learned more than just fear. He’d learned how to be alert, what signs of danger to look for, how to identify when all was clear and when there was a disturbance. He’d been living alone now for almost eight months, and had spent that whole time tracking down the gang that had killed his mother. Fang Patrol was still a huge presence in Sycamore Heights, and the weight of that presence pressed on the shoulders of every civilian who lived there. When he wasn’t practicing his constructs, making them bigger and longer-lasting, Roman was trying to learn all he could about the villain group.

His cycles of energy continued to go up and down, but living away from the stressor that had been his most recent ‘home’ meant he was that much more stable, with both up- and down-swings just a bit less severe. Less severe didn’t mean nonexistent, though. Which was how he’d found himself skulking through a construction yard on his eighteenth hour of continuous wakefulness, hiding behind a huge stack of I-beams as he struggled to hear a conversation between two men he suspected of being Patrol members or accomplices. Seeing them start to move towards his hiding place, he eased himself around the corner of the barrier of beams and crouched, shuffling softly to another stack of construction materials. Moving backwards to keep the shady conversants in full view, he didn’t notice another human form until he backed straight into something warm and metallic. An arm shot into his vision and clamped a hand over his mouth as he started to panic. His hands started to glow red until another hand pinned his arms to his side. A rough, soft voice in his ear instructed him to be “Quiet, or they’ll hear you.” The arms pulled him into shadow before turning him around to face their owner.

The glare of obstructed warehouse floodlights glinted off a metal prosthetic eye as its live partner contemplate Roman. A woman, not quite middle-aged, studied him from behind a white mask, her lone hazel eye roving from his young, red-masked face to his simple prince costume. Dark hair was pulled back into an intricate braid, with a handful of rogue hairs flopping around a bronze-skinned face. She was dressed in a body-hugging leotard in copper and white, with a flexible black skirt over strong thighs. As Roman’s eyes roved, taking in his first real-life superhero, he realized one leg was also a prosthetic. That became particularly clear as the hero reached down, popped open a compartment on her leg, and removed a small metal object. Next, she pulled out an arrow from a quiver on her back and replaced the arrowhead with the object. As it clicked into place, she nodded decisively and gestured for Roman to lean in closer.

“Name’s Copper Eye. I’m hunting the Patrol. Looks like you’re doing the same,” she murmured, voice not carrying any further than Roman’s ear. “Normally I’d say you’re far too young to be out here, but if you’re this young and already hunting the Fang Patrol on your own, I don’t need to ask to know you’ve got a good reason.”

Not wanting to draw attention, Roman just nodded, wide-eyed.

“What do you do, _niño?_ What’s your power?” she asked briskly, still keeping her voice quiet.

Roman kept his hands fully hidden in the shadows as he conjured his self-coined superhero name and logo. A red crown sat in his hands, with a bold font across it spelling out “Scarlet Prince” in white.

Copper Eye sat back on her heels. “ _Dios mío_. Haven’t seen that one before.” She paused, then nodded again. “Here’s the plan. This is a flashbang,” she said, waving her arrow. “I want to scare these fu- these _guys_ out of where they’re hiding, and then surprise them. If I have this go off behind them, can you make a net to catch them over there?” She indicated a likely escape route behind them.

Roman looked at the gap, then nodded determinedly. She didn’t have to know this might be the fastest he’d ever conjured a construct this big. This was his chance to be a _real_ hero. He would not mess it up. He braced himself and gave his new partner a thumbs-up.

She had a wildcat’s grin, all glinting teeth and promise of danger as she drew back her bow and loosed. The explosive arrow whistled, an eerie sound that their quarry didn’t noticed until it was too late. A bright flash and a terrific bang behind them sent both hurrying in Roman’s direction. The blood pounded in his veins and his hands glowed bright red and a huge net grew from them, wriggling up to cover the gap like charmed snakes. Looking behind their shoulders, neither man saw the danger until they’d run headlong into Roman’s trap. He let the end fall over their heads, and added newly-conjured weights to the ends. His smiled glowed as brightly as his constructs. He’d done it! His first mission had been a success! Copper Eye came up behind him, and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Good work, kid,” she said at a normal volume. When not whispering, her voice was smoother and almost melodious, but the roughness of her undertone remained. “I’ll see what I can get out of these two in terms of what they and their friends are planning.”

She glanced at Roman, who still waited by his net looking pleased with himself. “I don’t suppose you’d be inclined to go home at the moment, would you?”

“No ma’am!” he said cheerily. The exhaustion of such a long period of mania had yet to catch up with him. Once it did, he’d have just enough time to get home, or so he hoped.

Copper Eye visibly flinched hearing his voice. “Kid - uh, Scarlet Prince. How old are you, exactly?”

Roman blushed under his mask. “I’m… 16?” he offered.

“No you’re not. Well, fu- I mean, _dang_. Guess I’ll keep you here so you don’t get in worse trouble elsewhere. And so you can keep the net going.”

Later that night, after Copper Eye had successfully drawn out a meeting place for the Patrol, Roman flew home, back to his very simple hidden home under the underpass. It had taken so much concentration to form, but now that it had persisted successfully for months, it took less effort to maintain it.

 _I did it - I was a true hero today,_ he thought as tiredness finally started to sink in, his body at last catching up with his overdriven brain. _Look at me, Maman. I made it._

* * *

He’d thought he might just run into Copper Eye again by chance. But she had other plans. He was woken up the next day by her calling for him, having seen where he flew but not where his home was hidden. That day was the first day of their official partnership as hero and sidekick. Copper Eye - Teresa, she eventually told him her name was- had a gruff streak, but she’d fallen in love with Roman the way he fell in love with the stray cats in his neighborhood. Every morning, she’d seek him out, or they’d meet in one of the few parks of Sycamore Heights. Teresa quickly learned about his bipolar disorder when she came seconds from shooting a (perfectly-aimed) explosive arrow into his wall when he’d been unresponsive for a full day. For the first time since childhood, someone was there for Roman during his depressive days, and there to pull him back from danger on the manic ones. For the first time since his mother died, he felt _safe_.

They kept following the Fang Patrol together, stopping robberies, fixing vandalism, and protecting the residents of the Heights. The locals knew them, and no longer side-eyed Roman as he stood at crime scenes, off to the side as Teresa talked to police.

Once, a toddler had run up and tugged on his sash. He forced a smile down at her, uncertain of what she wanted.

“Are you really a prince?” she asked, chestnut eyes huge.

“Uh, yes, that’s my name. I’m the Scarlet Prince,” he said in what he hoped was a strong voice.

“But are you a prince like the stories? Do you save princesses?”

It was only then that Roman actually noticed that this tiny child was wearing a blue dress with a white cardigan tied in front like an apron, and had a blue bow in her hair - a homemade Belle costume. He knelt down to her eye level.

“Yes, my dear. I am a prince, and I’m here to keep princesses like you safe,” he assured her with a smile. “Could my lady honor me with your name?”

“I’m Sofia. And I’m five!” she told him with a toothy grin, holding up a hand with all her fingers outstretched.

“It is lovely to meet you, Sofia,” Roman responded. He couldn’t keep himself from grinning wider, nor did he want to. “Am I correct in saying that you’re a princess?”

Sofia nodded energetically. “Mama says I am!”

Roman froze for no more than a second before forcing himself to keep talking, calm and reassuring. “And mamas are always right, aren’t they? Do you listen to your mama? Are you good?”

Sofia bit her lip. “I think so. But…” she looked around behind her, where a woman with matching thick, wavy hair was watching, with a cautious but fond smile. “One time Mama wanted to leave the lye-berry… libry…   _biblioteca_ and I didn’t wanna so I hid.”

“Was that good, Sofia? That hardly seems like what a princess would do!”

The little girl looked down. “Noooo, it was bad.”

“Are you going to do it again?”

“No.”

“Promise?”

“ _Sì!_ ”

“Then it seems you are a princess indeed,” Roman said with a smile. Something in his chest was warm and fluttery in an unfamiliar way. This little girl _believed_ in him, looked up to him as a hero. He would make sure he didn’t let her down. Not ever. “And a princess should have a crown, shouldn’t she?”

Sofia’s eyes were huge as she clapped her hands in excitement, nodding eagerly.

Roman held out a glowing hand as a delicate white crown shaped itself on Sofia’s head, nestled in her dark hair. In the middle was a red rose, just like the Beast’s. She reached up a hand reached up to feel the new ornament, then flung her arms around Roman’s torso.

Roman was slightly paralyzed in shock, but the warm feeling spread even further, fizzing in his fingers and toes as he carefully patted her back. Her mother came rushing over.

“I’m sorry, are you alright?” she asked as she pulled her daughter back. “Sofia Rodriguez, what have I said about touching without asking?”

“My lady, it is quite alright,” Roman said, standing with a smile. “Princess Sofia here was just promising to be good and listen to you, and she was thanking me for the crown I gave her.”

The worried mother noticed the crown in question with a start. “Oh, that is lovely - I - how much do I owe you?”

“Free of charge, _madame_. It was my pleasure as a Prince.”

The woman smiled. “Thank you, then, for myself and for Sofia. Thank you for helping to keep our home safe.”

Teresa came over as mother and daughter walked away. “The cops are about done- oh, did you get a citizen thank you?”

Roman nodded, smiling as he watched them walk away. Sofia turned and waved as she walked, crown flashing in the afternoon light. He waved back, heart swelling just a little bit more.

Teresa hugged him around the shoulders. “Isn’t it the best?”

“She thinks I’m a _hero_ ,” he said.

“Maybe because you are,” Teresa said with a smile.

“I just… _Maman_ always said I would be one. I wasn’t sure if she really believed it or just wanted me to be happy.”

Teri rubbed a calming hand on his back, just as she always did on the dark days and other times his family came up. “I think she believed it, Ro. And even if she didn’t…” She gestured to him and his costume. “Hey look, Ma. He made it.”

* * *

 **D.R.E.A.M. Index #337321 [ARCHIVED]**  
Classification: A.3.iv [Tertiary Tier Hero, unknown origin]  
Name: Scarlet Prince  
Status: INACTIVE  
/////////Reason: Realignment, see DI#337413 - Crimson Marauder  
Civilian Name: Unknown [Unregistered]  
/////////Unconfirmed report: first name “Roman”  
Affiliation: Hero  
///////// _H.A.T.C.H. Status: Unregistered  
_ Partners/Sidekicks: DI##336542 - Copper Eye  
Primary Foes: DI#Z-3286 - Fang Patrol  
Powers: Psionic Construction - Red Light  
Costume: White Suit, Red and Silver Sash, Red Mask  
Age: Approx 18 yrs [uncertain]  
/////////age as of INACTIVE date - for current age, see DI#337413 - Crimson Marauder  
Pronouns: He/Him  
 _H.E.A.R.T.S. Class N/A_  
Note: given DI# after active for one year, but at first appearance his approximate age was 12 or 13; Origin and family unknown

* * *

 On his eighteenth birthday, Roman and Teresa celebrated by doing their favorite thing: continuing to fight crime together. After five years of partnership, they had an established routine. But recently, Teri had been bugging him to actually go to the hero school, where he could learn more, make friends, and have structure. She’d offered to pay the admission fee. He’d objected. He was the age at which everyone else graduated- wouldn’t it be far too late for him to join?

She fixed him with an all-too-familiar stare, the one that answered all his manic plans and worst imaginings. He crumpled, and admitted he was scared about getting into the city’s hero system. After so many years, he knew how to survive safely in the street. What if they didn’t accept him, because he’d started on his own? What if he’d been learning wrong and they didn’t want him there? What if they sent him back to Grandpère?

Teresa hugged him hard and long, a bear hug of protection and promise. “If they so much as _breathe_ a word about sending you back, they all get arrows right in the eye,” she vowed. Roman believed her and the fire in her words utterly. “But they won’t. They really are there to help supers, no matter old or young. They won’t force you to stay if you hate it, but they won’t turn you away. I know most of the teaching staff - a lot of them were classmates of mine. So if you have any issues, I’d be able to talk to them and set them straight.”

Roman couldn’t help grinning as he looked up from the hug. “Even if you’re not?”

“ _Especially_ since I’m not,” she responded, chuckling. “Now, I have a couple of leads for the Fang Patrol HQ. Let’s go check one out today, okay? Stealth mode and all that.”

The lead wasn’t the gang’s headquarters, but it was a distribution center of their operation. They found some explosives and weapons but just as much contraband in other forms. The Patrol was trying to control commerce in the Heights by intercepting other deliveries of food, drinks, cigarettes, and other sundries. It took them all day to clean up the operation and catch all the runners, but they headed for home feeling accomplished. As they parted that evening, Teresa turned to Roman. “Promise me you’ll consider H.E.A.R.T.S., okay? Really think about it?”

Roman rolled his eyes and replied, “ _Yes_ , Ma.”

When he realized what he’d said, he blushed as red as his mask. But then he looked back at her and saw she was blushing just as hard. She pulled him in for a hug, then left, waving but unable to speak.

* * *

That night, a sudden vibration, a dull thud, and a distant boom sent Roman falling out of his construct bed. A moment’s thought hid his shelter as he donned his costume and took off into the night sky. Spotting the source of the sound wasn’t difficult. Smoke was pouring out from somewhere in the Heights, lit from below by the dull and unfriendly glow of uncontrolled fire. It was coming from the location of another of Teresa’s leads. As he barrelled towards the epicenter of the smoke, he started to hear yells and sirens.

He touched down harder than normal in his panic, twisting an ankle as he landed. _Fuck, no time to walk it off,_ he thought. A glowing gesture later, and he had a perfectly-fitted brace on his leg. Later, he’d have time to worry about his own injuries. Now, there was a burning building in front of him, and it looked ready to spread to the neighborhood.

He found a fire hydrant and knocked off the cap with a summoned hammer. Water spurted out, spilling into the street before being channeled into a red hose that grew longer in a glow of red light. Roman could feel his veins start to fizz and burst, adrenaline pooling into the familiar sensation of a manic phase rising. He sent the water hose arcing into the night sky, splitting into multiple nozzles. Two for the building itself, dousing the roof. One each to the houses on either side of this innocuous-looking storefront, soaking the roof tiles to keep the sparks from spreading. His mind continued to race. What had caused the explosion? Where were the bad guys? Where were the heroes that must have arrived by now?

Was Teri here?

Water splashed across the sidewalk as his focus wavered. He looked up and winced at the disintegrating hose and remade it, flying up to get a better view of the area. The flames spiked through a hole in the roof, wind sending them higher and hotter. Through the wreckage, Roman could see forms inside. Were they fighting, or fleeing?

Sirens that had been approaching in the distance arrived in a flash of green flashing lights, an emergency services van pulling up on the street. A tech below him saw his efforts to stop the fire and saluted before rushing with her squad into the less-fiery part of the building.

A rush of air at his side alerted him to another arrival. Commander Eagle had arrived in a flurry of wings as he hovered in midair next to Roman. One of the most prominent and established heroes, he was in his late twenties but had the presence of a no-nonsense drill sergeant.

“What’s the situation?”

“Fang Patrol, I'm pretty sure. The fire’s contained for now. There’s some fighting within the building, not sure if any civilians are trapped, though.”

“Any known supers?”

“I think Ter- I think Copper Eye is here. Haven’t seen her yet, though,” Roman said, worry heavy in his voice. The winged man next to him just nodded.

“Understood. Keep fighting the fire - I’m going in.”

Roman didn’t know much about the other heroes in Harmony City, but he hoped Commander Eagle had more than just wings. His best efforts were only keeping the fire from spreading, not putting it out. He hoped those feathers were fireproof.

He watched through the hole in the roof anxiously, pouring in water to try to get a clearer view of the mess inside. Emergency techs in charred green protective suits were pulling people to safety or custody through the ruins of the front wall. He heard a creak and gasped as another half of the roof caved in, its foundations eaten away to ash. Amidst the roar of flames and crash of debris, he heard a familiar string of swears in Spanish and English.

 _Teresa_.

He abandoned the hoses and let the water flood into the gaping roof as he dashed into the fray. These guys were Fang Patrol, so Teri was definitely here somewhere. He was _sure_ that had been her voice. He just needed to find her and they’d kick ass together, squash out these villains at long last. He could feel it in his bones- this was the day that the Patrol would be defeated for once and for all.

Conjuring a protective bubble, he forced his way into the building. There were cases of goods crackling in the fire that he recognized from stolen manifests, surrounded by weapons. Flames had eaten through the varnish on an upended table leg and were turning scattered playing cards into a fine ash. Whatever had started the fire had been a surprise to people inside, too.

Roman saw forms running towards him - Patrol members, trying to make a break for it. They recognized him, and came bearing down. He dodged an arm coming towards his head and tossed a conjured lasso behind him, tripping the black-clad man into a nearby landing. Another assailant approached more slowly, brandishing a blackjack in one hand and a baseball bat in the other. Roman stared hard at the blackjack, letting his opponent think his attention was focused on the leather weapon, and without gesturing summoned a red saw to cut off the bat right under the grip. The sudden loss of weight distracted the man as he stared at the stump in his hand, and Roman lunged in, hitting the man’s temple with a conjured blackjack of his own. The man crumpled, and Roman tugged him into the same fireless foyer where techs continued to ferry out the injured.

He was a hero, after all. The only deaths he wanted to be responsible for were the ones where there was no other choice.

He dashed back into the fiery building, summoning armor to protect his body from flames and falling beams alike. Once he found Teresa, he could protect her too.

He was nearing the center of the blaze when a feathered form barrelled into him, knocking him to his back, breathless. It was the Commander, looking feverish.

“Kid, we need to get out of here - one of them super bastards has ringed himself in TNT.” The bird-man’s bare chest was pouring with fire- and fear-sweat. He grabbed Roman around the middle and started flying for the exit.

“But- sir, Copper’s in there!”

“You need to make the biggest shield you can hold, you hear me? I’ll get us out, but you need to limit how much damage this fucker can do. There’s no telling how much time we have - we need to _move_.”

The older man was far too strong for Roman to struggle successfully, and it was true that an explosion here would tear apart the entire block. Gulping in air, he fought to focus hard enough to do as the Commander had asked. Spreading glowing hands, he willed walls into being, arcing from the ground up. The sparkling ruby barrier grew quickly, meeting at the top in a dome as the rumbles from somewhere deep in the house began.

Commander and Prince were safely aloft in the cool night air when the explosion erupted, tearing the air with the sound and sending shudders and shock waves through Roman’s very bones. Gusts of violent fire roared out, only to hit Roman’s barrier and curl in. It swirled below his shield, looking like a cruel retelling of a snow globe. He started to sweat as the energy of keeping the barrier solid taxed his strength. The fire wasn’t stopping - was it a gas fire? A whisper of memory came to him. An evening in his childhood home, a gentle female voice warning him how to be safe with kitchen fires. Had it been Maman? Or Ms. Jackson, from next door? _If it’s a regular fire, use water. If it’s a gas fire, choke it out._

He hung limp in Commander Eagle’s arms, all his focus and energy on keeping the red wall solid, ensuring no cracks for air to enter or exit. The roaring pulse of the fire was receding, revealing only the charred foundations of the building that had once stood there.

 _Just gotta hold it a little longer,_ he told himself, clenching his face in concentration. He dimly heard the Commander exclaim as the world faded to a blissfully silent black.

He came back to wakefulness with a start, taking in his surroundings. He was in the emergency van, on a cot that reeked of soot. He looked down at his charred costume. On second thought, perhaps it wasn’t the cot that reeked.

Memory flooded back. The explosion. The fight. The Patrol. _Teresa._

He levered himself out onto the street. Where there had been a building just hours before, there was now a smoking crater, the damage cut off in a perfect circle where his shield had been. He walked towards the building, then started to run.

There, in the center of the rubble, the emergency team was pulling a familiar form onto a stretcher. There were huge tears in leotard, dark stains spreading on the white. The compartments in her leg dangled open until a technician closed them, but the limb had melted from the knee down, charring through her boots. With a start, he realized her prosthetic eye was missing. She’d always joked when he asked her about it, saying “It’s a weapon, of course. Where haven’t I hidden one? I’d just rather not use it if I don’t have to.”

Perhaps she hadn’t been joking after all.

Hands grabbed him and held him back. Commander Eagle was there, shaking his head. “Let them work, kid. We have a process for this.”

“No, you don’t understand, I have to tell her I’m okay, she keeps worrying I’ll go after the Patrol alone, she needs to know she doesn’t need to worry. She’ll hear me, even if she’s knocked out, I swear.”

“Kid,” the Commander said, “she won’t hear you.” His face was not unkind, but firm.

Reality hit Roman in the gut, but acceptance could still be held at bay. “No. No, she’s okay. All the heroes got here so fast, right? They did that alarm call thing I’ve heard about. Everyone who can help came. She had backup, and together we all defeated the Patrol. And I promised her I’d go to H.E.A.R.T.S., after.”

Commander Eagle sighed, hand still on Roman’s shoulder. “It’s Scarlet Prince, right, kid? The good news is yes, that was the last of Fang Patrol. Partly due to the leader blowing himself to high heaven, which is what caused all _this_ ,” he said, free hand indicating the crater in front of them. He looked directly in Ro’s eyes as he continued. “But this is the Heights. Even if it wasn’t the Patrol, there’d be _someone_ causing mayhem and violence. Maybe not the same level, but it’s just the nature of the area. This right here wasn’t Blackout-call-level violence. I’m here because I was out flying a regular patrol, and emergency services come out at the slightest hint of trouble. They’ll have a recognition ceremony this week. You’ll have your chance to say goodbye then. For tonight, get yourself out of here to home and get some rest. The Heights are no place for a Prince.”

* * *

Stumbling through the city from Teresa’s funeral, Roman was numb. But he felt the sharp edges of grief poking up from below, and the pain they promised was more than he could handle. Rather than risk it, he sought a way to preserve the deadened quiet. He turned into a bar in the Heights. He and Teresa had broken up a bar fight here just last week and saved the bartender from a broken bottle or five. She recognized him now, even without his mask. He dragged himself onto a stool at the bar. His could barely lift his head to meet her gaze. Shards of cool ice that feel an awful lot like tears were stabbing the sides of his eyes and threatening to emerge. If they broke through, Roman wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop himself from coming apart at the seams.

“Hey… I heard about Copper,” the bartender said sadly. “I’m so sorry. I know it’s not much, but it looks like you could use this. On the house.” She passed him a glass with a tawny gold liquid. It smelled like smoke, but so much friendlier than the fire of ruins and explosions.

By the time he’d finished the pour, the fire had melted away the ice shards of grief and burned away just a little of the weight that had taken up residence in his stomach. He could lift his head, and in fact his whole skull felt like he was flying, doing barrel rolls without leaving the ground.

“Ari, can I get another?” he asked the bartender, smiling for the first time in what felt like years.

“Pretty sure you’re still underage there, champ - one for sympathy is all I can justify to my boss. Have some water and then go home, okay?”

“Of course!” Roman said cheerily. He dutifully drank the full glass of water she deposited in front of him, then saluted and left the building.

He stepped into an alley and concentrated on the fine details of a new construct. It was harder than normal to focus, and thoughts kept slipping away when he tried to gather them, like tiny bits of clouds wisping away from their fellows. But he was blissfully painless. He couldn’t let that fade. He persevered in his creation.

He walked out of the alley to find a different bar. This one had lower lights and darker wood, but the same golden bottle against the wall of glass behind the bar. Roman took a seat more confidently and asked for a whiskey, please. Calmly, he presented his ID when asked. It said he was 21, but could just as easily have said he was 43. He hadn’t had a state-issued ID since Grandpère… _no. Not now. Not tonight. Push that down_.

His construct ID looked just as good as the black-and-white originals. He needed more liquid fire. More numbness. And now he could get it and no one would _appear_ to be breaking the law.

The memories of villainous smoke and fire melted into haze, his worries into fluff. He felt the dark tide rising and accepted it.

Stumbling through the Heights, he frowned at a familiar block of stone. Where was the door? He gestured. Then furrowed his brow and waved harder. He held his fingers up to the wobbly halo of the streetlight, seeking an answer from the lack of red light in his palms. A spurt of red became a marble, then a key. He turned around, confused. His power was fine, if a little… inhibited. Where was his home?

Oh. He’d just been staring intently at the wrong stone column. He stumbled in through the newly-appeared door, cradling a sloshing bottle of tawny fire. He collapsed onto the couch, holding it closer. Numb. For the first time in his life, he craved that familiar tide of numbness. The weight. The dark. The grey.

He had always felt its approach, even as he felt powerless to stop it. But tonight, he screwed off the top of the whiskey bottle and took another swig. Let it come.

* * *

Two days later, a pounding headache and an empty bottle proved to be enough to break the grey cloud. Or maybe it was the motion of Roman’s stomach that dissipated the enveloping clouds as it rebelled against the too-much alcohol and too-little food, fighting his esophagus to expel every last drop of bile. His throat burned, but it was no longer the loose fire of alcohol, now just the scratch of vomit and acid.

He’d run out of liquid fire, but the ice shards in his eyes hadn’t returned. No, they had migrated to his chest, coldness filling the cavity where there’d been so much heat and life before. His muscles felt on edge, adrenaline pumping like he was about to fight. But the normal righteous fury wasn’t beating in his heart, sending warm pulses through his blood. It was cold, now. And not very righteous at all. A flash of light transformed him once more into the Scarlet Prince as he stepped outside his tiny, construct home and leapt into the air.

He rocketed through the sky, a red star shooting into the night. He climbed higher and higher, through damp clouds until he felt the beginnings of frost forming on his costume.

The ice that had been threatening to pierce his heart had finally found its target. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks. It wasn’t _fair_. Teresa had been such a great hero. She deserved squads of superheroes to fight for her. Battalions. _Armies_.

She’d had _one_. And Commander Eagle was so heartless, Roman wasn’t sure he even counted as one.

Teri had told him, hadn’t she? Sometimes you tried your hardest, did all you could do, and you could still lose someone. But in the end, as long as you saved more than you lost, it was okay. That was the very nature of collateral damage.

 _Collateral damage_. The lives lost in the crossfire. The ones whose deaths were acceptable as long as there were more lives saved. Like Teresa. Like his mom.

Teresa had been so good, so warm, but she had been incorrect. There was _no_ acceptable number of deaths. How could these so-called superheroes hide that truth? How could they acquiesce to the mentality of ‘for the greater good’? Even if it was one of their own. How could they let Teresa die?

The heroes had failed her, and they’d failed him. All those years ago, he’d thought if there were only more heroes, his mom could have been saved. But she still would have lived in the Heights. The city had already left her at risk for so long, banking on the heroes’ ability to save them all. But they hadn’t.

All he’d wanted to do was protect the civilians of the Heights, the ones who truly needed it. It certainly wasn’t the regular heroes who did that, not here. As long as Roman considered his neighborhood a priority, he’d never fit in with the heroes. So why try?

He glared as his costume. All red and white, modeled after young memories of dashing royalty who sang as they saved the day. And he’d added these stitches himself, the embroidery on the edges that glinted in the light. Silver threads, accenting the red. He’d thought he’d been so _clever_ when he’d come up with it.

But now? _Fuck_ the silver lining.

With a thought, his costume began to morph.

Turns out, Commander Eagle had been right after all. The Heights were no place for a Prince.

* * *

 **D.R.E.A.M. Index #336542**  
Classification: A.3.iii [Tertiary Tier Hero, Anomaly]  
Name: Copper Eye  
Status: DECEASED  
/////////Recognition: Honor Roll ‘11  
Civilian Name: [CLEARANCE: TOP SECRET] Teresa Torres  
Affiliation: Hero  
 _/////////_ _H.A.T.C.H. Status: On Call  
_ Partners/Sidekicks: DI#337321 - Scarlet Prince  
Primary Foes: DI#Z-3286 - Fang Patrol  
Powers: Marksmanship - Broad Spectrum;  
Costume: Leotard in copper and white with matching thigh-high boots, flexible wrap skirt over it in black;  
Weapons: Bow and Quiver of her own design; Boot and prosthetic leg also contain smaller projectiles and modified arrows  
/////////Prosthetic eye is also a weapon, but unconfirmed what type  
Age: 40  
/////////Age at time of death  
Pronouns: She/Her  
 _H.E.A.R.T.S. Class of ‘89_  
Note: Unconfirmed speculation that her death was connected to realignment/reinvention of DI#337321 to DI#337413

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first part of this was seen in #writing and #sparrows-nest-of-tears on the Powerless Discord. Here it is, in all its glori(ous angst). Huge, huge thank you to @patentpending for letting me borrow Kaimi from her tour-de-force Powerless, which you should definitely read if you haven’t already.


	4. Every Tainted Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The First Encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Descriptions of violence/fighting, forced asphyxiation, threats

There were some upsides to having a partner whose power was super speed. He and Logan always made it to Virgil’s favorite diner before it closed, they almost never had a non-speedster villain or criminal escape them, and racing him was actually a fun challenge.

The biggest downside, however, was Logan’s astounding lack of patience with any form of waiting. Unfortunately for them both, staking out the mysterious villains involved quite a lot of waiting.

The terrain was familiar, at least. The Harmony City Enhanced Ability Regulation and Training School was where Logan and Virgil had met almost 10 years ago. Better known as HEARTS or “the super school,” the building was an institution dedicated to helping young people learn how to understand, use, and control the abilities they were born with or acquired. But some students were younger than others.  Logan, of course, had been enrolled the minute his powers manifested at seven years old. But Virgil hadn’t been enrolled until he was fifteen because that’s when his moms had finally heard of it. Well, that, and the other reason.

Logan was sitting on the low entrance wall, bouncing his leg in boredom. Virgil lounged on top of the roof, in theory keeping a lookout, but in practice he was just picking up tiny pebbles to toss at his best friend to see if the jittery leg was moving so fast that projectiles went through it. It was these small expressions of his friend’s ability that fascinated Virgil. His own powers didn’t do _anything_ small, unless you counted floating in midair or lifting cars with ease “small.”

Another pebble fell through the vibrating leg. Without looking up, Logan said, “Virgil, I’m still aware of that, even if I can’t feel it.”

“Yeah, but it’s funny.”

“Regardless of your entertainment value, I’d rather you-”

“Heads up!” Virgil interrupted, leaping to standing. He pointed towards the city, where two forms were flying across the bay towards the island. “We’ll hide and watch?”

“I’ll take the first two floors, you take roof down to three,” Logan said, speeding into the building.

Virgil ducked behind a vent on the roof to watch the approach of the two forms. From the footage they’d been shown, he was confident that these were indeed the Crimson Marauder and Gale Force, the scourges of Harmony City, responsible for untold numbers of crimes and attacks. So why were they flying in loop-de-loops around each other as they approached?

Keeping his head low, Virgil watched as Gale Force spun around his companion once more then dropped to the ground. Good, Logan would be covering the ground floor and would be ready to counter his plans below. Crimson Marauder floated up to the roof, however, and Virgil tensed, not wanting to attack until he knew what they were up to.

It didn’t take long to find out. The villain pushed back his red-and-black cape with a flourish and started creating constructs on the roof in front of him. He seemed strangely at ease, which confused Virgil. Had the villains somehow discovered that there was an excursion that had emptied out the school for the day? Pushing aside distraction, Virgil narrowed his eyes at the items the villain was assembling. He recognized the components of a bomb when he saw one. He leapt out of his hiding place to land directly in front of where the villain continued to combine his glowing red constructs.

“Stop right there.”

Roman looked up, blinking from the rays of the setting sun. Outlined in light stood a dark-clad hero glaring down at him. His eyes met cold hazel eyes surrounded by a mask and he froze in place. His eyes roved down to muscled shoulders over even more muscled arms, to a trim waist and sharply defined V that was visible even through the man’s costume.

 _Oh fuck me,_ Roman thought as his mouth went dry, _this one’s_ **_hot_. **

“Did you hear me? Stop and back away from the bomb,” the hero said sharply. Roman lifted his hands, keeping them visible as he smiled.

“I’ll stop, but clearly there’s more than one bomb here.”

The tall hero looked at the villain sharply. “What do you mean? How many have you planted? Does your partner have more?”

“Nope,” Roman replied with a grin. “It’s your butt. Your butt is the bomb.”

The hero rolled his eyes. “And yet my ass has no intention of blowing up a school anytime soon. Break down the constructs now, and no one gets hurt.”

Roman pouted. “But it took so much practice to get them right, Mr. Tall, Dark, & Stormy. Aren’t you impressed?”

“Not in the slightest, Red Light District.” The hero took a step closer, ready to grab the villain if he tried to flee. “I know you can make them disappear. Get on it.”

Roman gasped in indignation at the nickname. “Excuse you, that’s Red _Hard_ Light District to you.”

“Oh I _bet_ you are,” the hero replied with a smirk, advancing ever closer. Virgil as a civilian was never able to flirt, but when he was in character as Reflex, most of his shyness melted away. If he was able to use flirtation instead of violence to capture this villain, all the better. And it appeared to be working. The construct-dynamite was fading away the closer Virgil got, and the villain’s eyes were huge underneath his mask. He was pretty sure he’d even heard the other man gulp audibly. This was going to be easy, for once.

That was when he heard the _thwump_ of compressed air and felt the entire building shake. The sound had come from the lower floors. Where Logan was. _Fuck._

Roman used the hero’s momentary distraction to jump off the roof and fly to meet his partner. His descent was immediately halted as he was jerked to a halt by his cape. He twisted to look up at Reflex leaning over the side of the roof, casually holding him back against all Roman’s effort to get away.

“Going so soon? I thought we had something special here, Marauder.”

“Sadly, I’m already committed to another,” Roman replied loftily. “You heroes think you can just flutter an eyelash and turn any poor man’s heart, but you won’t defeat me with your muscled wiles.”

Virgil shrugged. “Guess I won’t, then.” He tugged at the fabric and pulled Roman back onto the roof easily. He proceeded to tie the villain to a radiator using his own cape, ignoring the offended squawks. “Looks like all I needed was just the muscles.”

Roman scowled, and wiggled his hand just enough to make a construct of a rope that snaked out to knock the hero off the roof. Virgil saw it coming and faked a yawn as he stepped into mid-air to dodge it, then tightened the knot. Flicking the bound villain a lazy two-fingered salute, he jumped into the air to fly down to the site of the earlier explosion.

 

Logan wasn’t able to see the villains’ approach from where he was tensed inside the school building. The long hallways may as well have been tailored to his power, though. Unfettered, he could easily speed from entrance to entrance, and classrooms offered convenient hiding spots. He listened hard, adjusting his goggles as he picked up on sounds of the front doors opening and wind rushing in. He frowned as he realized that he didn’t hear any footsteps. Both villains could fly, but why take such precaution unless they knew they were expected?

He risked a peek out of the classroom and immediately spotted Gale Force floating his way down the hall, carrying some sort of red device. Unfortunately, the villain noticed Logan at the same moment.

“Well hey there! You must be the welcoming committee!”

Logan stepped out into the hallway, standing directly in Gale Force’s path. “You’re mistaken. I’m a superhero, here to prevent you from any plots you may have for this school.”

“Don’t you mean _mist_ -taken?” The villain said with a chuckle, cooling the air around him into a tiny cloud of moisture.

Logan groaned internally. Not only was Gale Force an unknown quantity who flouted the norms of supers by not wearing a mask, he was a punster too?

“What is that device you’re carrying? What are your intentions here?” he asked, voice clipped.

“Oh, nothing you need to worry about!” the freckled villain said brightly. “Just gonna blow this super-school _Sky High!_ ”

Logan froze, his brain still catching up with the reality of the villain’s words. The stark dichotomy of the threat to blow up the school with the happy tone and more goddamn puns. The universe just _had_ to curse him with a villain whose sense of humor was identical to his father’s, didn’t it.

“Um, you - you know I’m going to have to stop you, right?” Logan said, scrambling to regain his mental footing. “You can’t destroy this school. Too many children and young adults rely on it. It’s too important to the city.”

The villain’s smiling face darkened for such a brief moment Logan thought he’d imagined it. But when he spoke again, there was a new heat to his sunny tone, and Logan knew something he’d said had hit a nerve.

“I’m really sorry there, kiddo, but I’m gonna have to do this anyway. Sometimes life can be a little messy and complicated! Don’t you worry about it,” he finished with a huge grin. The winds around him picked up as he flew down the hall towards the basement stairs.

With a thought, Logan was speeding down the hall to grab the device, whatever it was, out of the villain’s hands. In a blur, he snagged it and passed the air manipulator completely. He stopped and turned to face his opponent, braced and tensed to move or dodge.

Gale Force still faced Logan’s original location with his back to the hero. He’d flinched as the device was snatched out of his hands but still stared into empty space.

“...a speedster, huh?” he said softly. “How… convenient that must be.”

Logan had to strain to hear the villain’s mutters, but something in the air had shifted. He could practically feel waves of chill emanating from the villain’s form. The back of his neck prickled with unplaced discomfort as he waited for his opponent’s next move.

It came without warning. One minute Gale Force was staring away, seemingly glued to the spot, and the next he had spun to face Logan and a funnel of wind was screeching towards him. Logan zipped to the side, only barely dodging despite his inhuman speed. The full force of the air thudded into the wall, and Logan could feel the whole building shake. He raced to pass the villain again, hoping to get out of his wind range, or at least frustrate it. He felt the cutting wind following just on his heels as he evaded another attack.

“Look at you,” Gale Force commented cheerily. His smile was stretched tight across his face, baring his teeth in a decidedly un-friendly way. “Running like the _wind_.”

Logan’s attention was caught by the pun and held for just a moment against an opponent where ‘just a moment’ made all the difference. His focus wavered, and the villain’s wind caught him. The funnel twisted around him, pinning his arms to his sides and trapping him in place. Harsh air spun around his face and body. If he hadn’t had his goggles, his eyes would have been tearing up. As it was, he found it harder and harder to breath as the force of the wind slowly cut off the air from entering his lungs.

“Hey there, Vectorious. Looks like you might need a _Doctor,_ ” the villain said happily. Logan struggled to free himself, but the edges of his vision were starting to go black. He needed to focus to run, but he couldn’t focus. He couldn’t _breathe_.

A purple-and-white blur appeared in the air as Virgil sped through the door to collide with Gale Force, knocking him out of midair. At the moment of impact, the air trapping Logan lost its strength, and he fell to his knees, gasping. His first thought was the explosive that he’d grabbed from the villain. Luckily, it was near him. As oxygen brought back his normal thought processes, he disassembled the construct bomb in a blur. Threat destroyed, he looked for his partner. Virgil and Gale Force had apparently busted straight through a wall, as Logan could hear the sounds of blows being exchanged through the hole in the brick wall.

He ran outside after them to see Virgil standing on the roof, in between Gale Force and the Crimson Marauder. The latter was bound by his own cape. Logan snorted. This was why he thought the costume accoutrements were so impractical, and kept urging Virgil to do away with his.

“Hey, let my partner go!” Gale Force shouted.

“He’s under arrest for the attempted sabotage of a school,” Virgil replied coolly. “And you are, too. Stand down, or the drama queen here gets hurt.”

The bound villain scowled. “Just like a hero, isn’t he, Pat?”

“Just like.”

“You should be very offended on my behalf and do something about it.”

Virgil had just a moment to dodge as Gale Force barrelled towards him, heating the air around him as he went. His breezes untangled the Marauder’s cape as he flew over. Freed, both villains wheeled into the sky.

Virgil almost chased them, but caught sight of Logan still standing shakily on the ground. He flew down.

“You okay, Lo?”

“I’m… a little out of breath still. Thank you for your timing - I was starting to lose feeling.”

Virgil hugged the man tightly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner. But I’m glad you’re okay.”

Logan hugged back. Physical affection wasn’t his strong suit, but with Virgil it was always okay.

“Can you believe Gale Force? No mask, and the Marauder is just tossing his name around. Pat or something?” Virgil asked as they parted.

“Yeah. He’s a cold one for all the smiles and jokes. Quite unsettling.” Checking the sun’s position, Logan offered, “I think it’s time we fill the Mayor in on what we’ve learned about our city’s newest supervillains. Maybe he’ll have some more research for us, as well.”

Virgil nodded and tapped his watch to let City Hall know they were on their way, and sent a call for repairs of the school. “Are you okay to run, Lo? Or do you need a lift?”

Logan grimaced. “You know I hate being carried but… I am still a bit unsteady. I won’t be able to cross the water in my present state.”

Virgil turned and kneeled, letting Logan throw his arms around his neck and loop his legs around his waist. With his friend riding piggyback, Virgil leapt into the air and flew over the harbor towards the mainland.

 

Joan and Talyn were already waiting for the heroes when Virgil flew in the office window. Both looked concerned as Virgil gently deposited Logan on a chair.

“Fuck, is he okay?” the mayor asked.

Logan nodded. “I will be. We finally encountered Gale Force and the Crimson Marauder. Gale Force is… _powerful._ The incident you mentioned from last week, with the sidekick Emerald Prodigy, was clearly not an anomaly. While I’m recovering now, if Virgil’s timing had been just a bit slower, I might have had lasting side effects from the air deprivation.”

Talyn, their hair a bright orange today, frowned and tapped a pen against their mouth. “Did you speak with either of them? Any idea of motivation?”

“Gale Force uses an unsettling number of puns and then went into fight mode very easily,” Logan began.

A page from Joan’s executive assistant interrupted them all.

“Swallowtail to see you, Mayor Stokes!”

“Send him in!” Joan said through the intercom. The door opened to reveal a short black man who grinned as he saw the mayor’s company.

“Terrence!” Virgil cried happily, crossing the room in three long strides to greet his fellow hero. He swept him up in a huge bear hug that lifted the much-shorter man completely off the ground.

Logan hung back, though he had a matching smile. Terrence had graduated HEARTS in the same year, and they’d been good friends despite their three-year age difference. Terrence had also been one of the first other heroes to become friends with Virgil when he’d enrolled at the school, and they remained close.

“What brings you in today?” Talyn asked as Virgil deposited Terrence back on his feet.

“Research! I heard you two tangled with the new team today,” Terrence replied. “As the resident villain enthusiast, I gotta know more. And maybe I can help with some background for next time.”

Virgil nodded. “So the biggest thing we learned is that Gale Force can go stone-cold in a second, and his name is ‘Pat.’ I also learned that the Marauder is uh. _Super_ gay.”

“V, you do know that probably means he’s regular gay, right?” Logan asked, rolling his eyes. “You tend to have that effect on everyone who’s attracted to men.”

Virgil scratched his neck. “Oh. I do?”

Joan cut in, also rolling his eyes. “Super strength, super flight, and super oblivious. Yes, Virge. I’ve had to remind the building staff not to ask out any of our supers five times more since you officially joined.”

 _“Anyway,”_ Talyn started, glaring at their partner.

“Any _gay_ ,” Joan whispered.

“This is just more information to add to what we already know about the Marauder and his past. We even knew his name is Roman, though the family name remains a mystery.”

Virgil frowned. “How do we know anything about him? He’s never been arrested, has he?”

“No,” Terrence replied. “But he was initially a hero.”

“Yes. He was a hero. And he chose to become a villain,” Logan said, disdain dripping from his words. “He was called the Scarlet Prince, before. And then he decided to blame the whole city for one unfortunate accident.”

“He was a sidekick, and his hero was killed in action. After that, he disappeared until he re-emerged as the Crimson Marauder,” Terrence explained.

“Ah. But that could be understandable, right? Losing someone you care about can… change you,” Virgil said.

“Doesn’t change what’s right, though,” Logan replied tightly.

Virgil reached out and laid a gentle hand on Logan’s shoulder, a silent offer of comfort. The speedster almost shook him off, but after a moment let the tension ebb.

“As the villains were escaping, they were making particular digs at us as heroes,” Virgil told the others. “I think it’s safe to say that they aren’t in it to target civilians. Between that and their attack on HEARTS on a day when no one was in the building, I think they’re doing this for, I don’t know. Symbolism, maybe? Or to attack active heroes particularly.”

Joan nodded. “And you got that impression from Gale Force, too?”

“Yes, approximately. Though he may bear more animosity towards the city itself, it’s still not directed towards the citizens as a whole,” Logan said.

“In good news, we’ve gotten better at identifying uses of their powers,” Talyn told them. “Unless you say otherwise, we’re going to keep you two as the primary call for them.”

“That is satisfactory,” Logan said. “I believe I’ve devised a way to avoid the attack that caught me this time.”

“Virge, did they see all your powers?” Joan asked. The tall hero shook his head. “Then there’s still an upper hand. I hope you can catch them soon.”

 

* * *

 

**D.R.E.A.M. Index #337261**

Classification: A.3.i [Tertiary Tier Hero, Legacy]

Name: Swallowtail

Status: ACTIVE

Civilian Name: [CLEARANCE: TOP SECRET] Terrence Williams, Jr.

Affiliation: Hero

 _/////////_ _H.A.T.C.H. Status: Specific Calls and Blackout Only_

Partners/Sidekicks: N/A

Primary Foes: N/A

Powers: Shape-shifting: size reduction and addition; Tech-assisted flight;

Costume: Bodysuit in bright florals; yellow, black, and white jet pack painted with namesake butterfly wings

Age: 25

Height: 5’3”

Pronouns: He/His

_H.E.A.R.T.S. Class of ‘11_

Note: Unconfirmed relation to members of DI#Z-3286 - Fang Patrol, but confirmed hero and son of supers; Classmate and fellow scientist to DI#337255 - Dr. Vectorious; A less active hero, primary role as research/support to S.E.A.M. Stokes and Mayor Stokes;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it’s been a minute since the last update, and several ideas for this AU have shifted, particularly in regards to endgame relationships. But I’m still very excited for future reveals and fully intend to finish this story.


	5. Watch Them Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil and Logan were kind of hoping these villains would be as easy to capture as most enemies they fight. But somehow, fighting with them over and over isn't all bad.

Air rushed by Virgil’s ears as he flew over Harmony City. It was truly lovely in the twilight, when the first pricks of silver light were appearing in the indigo sky and the last rays of the sun were glinting off rooftops. And the moon had risen early tonight, shining bright and full above his head. He was flying slowly, making the rounds of his regular patrol. He was currently somewhere in the southwest, near Sycamore Heights, and knew Logan was in the north covering his quadrants. He was alert and aware, but not on edge - tensed to move and defend at any moment, but passing birds and bats didn’t make him jump.

What _did_ make him jump was a sudden buzzing at his wrist.

The coordinates flashing from the HATCH alert sent him wheeling north. It could just be one of the ordinary villains they faced on a regular basis - all the supers in the region seemed to flock to the city sooner or later. But some sixth sense told him it would be the terrifying pair from the week before. He hoped Logan would arrive at the same time - he didn’t want the speedster to go up against both villains alone.

The coordinates led him to the middle of the city, right on the street that divided the north and south. There was a construction site here, some government-funded building, but Virgil couldn’t remember what. A children’s hospital, or a school, something along those lines.

He stayed in the air, hovering, blending in with the darkening sky. He didn’t have enhanced vision, but unlike his bespectacled partner, he had pretty decent eyesight naturally. He peered into the shadows of the building skeleton that was slowly being built up in the crater of some past super fight. There. Movement. And occasional flashes of red light. It was them.

He flew down slowly, scanning the streets. No sight of Logan yet, but he couldn’t be more than a few seconds away. And they’d devised strategies for situations just like this. It was Virgil’s responsibility to start them off before Logan arrived.

He flew down and alit silently on the tallest beam to watch more clearly what the villains were up to. Gale Force said something to the Marauder, then floated away to the perimeter. The Crimson Marauder was creating constructs again - another bomb, by the look of it. What was it with these villains and wanting to blow shit up?

He landed heavily and knocked the red-and-black-clad man back with a single blow to the chest. The Marauder fell back, his constructs immediately vanishing as he stumbled. Virgil froze for a moment - had he used too much force? He didn’t want to be cruel, not even to an attempted saboteur. But the man rose with a grown and sent a huge ruby fist the size of a small car hurtling back at him. Virgil crossed his arms and braced, letting the impact hit and dissipate without harm. He straightened again, and made eye contact with the villain. The Marauder stared, open-mouthed.

“What the hell, that didn’t even _phase_ you?” he asked.

Virgil shrugged, a cocky smirk playing on his lips. “I mean, maybe you could actually _try_ this time, Princey.”

The Marauder stiffened. “What the fuck did you call me,” he snapped.

“Oh, sorry, was that rude? Didn’t mean to pop the whole ‘reinvention’ bubble you’ve got going on here,” Virgil offered with false sincerity. “Though I gotta say, _love_ the new outfit compared to the old one. Very _Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge_.”

Virgil was answered with a yell as psionic constructs came flying towards him, accompanied by the villain himself. Swords, bats, and what looked suspiciously like a keyblade flew harmlessly passed him as he dodged swiftly and grabbed the Marauder by the front of his uniform. He pulled him close, halting the villain’s momentum, then pinned him up against a partially-built wall. The Marauder seethed, scowling at the hero who kept him trapped as constructs blinked into existence and faded again.

“You know _nothing_ about me, you posh-ass hero-boy! With your fancy suit and your cushy support of the city and your _beautiful_ hair!”

Virgil cocked an eyebrow. “Aw, you dig the purple? Always nice to be appreciated by my fans. And I’m sure I’ll be getting to know you very well, once you’re all cozy and locked up.”

“You’ll have to catch us first!” a voice rang out. Gale Force was hurtling towards hero and villain, winds funneling around him as the pressure knocked Virgil entirely out of the way.

Virgil landed hard on the ground. It didn’t _hurt_ , per se, but the shock left him almost winded.

Gale Force patted the Marauder’s cheek. “You all good, Roman?”

“Yes, my dearest Patton. Go get him.”

 _Roman and Patton,_ Virgil thought, fixing the names in his brain as the wind manipulator sent a small hurricane whistling towards him.

A dark blue blur came into being around Gale Force, a matching tornado that spun faster and faster. Virgil smirked. Logan’s timing, as always, was impeccable, and the speedster was turning Patton’s trick from HEARTS against him.

The villain stumbled and started to choke, then toppled over. Logan came to a halt just in time to catch the villain in his arms.

 _Excellent, caught him,_ he thought to himself, when his thoughts were suddenly diverted by an entirely new train. The villain’s blue eyes fluttered open under ginger curls that appeared to be constantly bouncing in the wind. Partially passed out, the man’s freckled face looked so… open, and vulnerable, and lovely, and _what was happening to him?_

It was at that moment that a huge excavator arm made of glowing red light plucked the grey-and-blue-clad villain out of Logan’s arms as the Marauder recovered his partner. Logan scowled, mind back on the task, and sped towards Roman. The construct holding Patton didn’t disappear as a ramp sprang into being right in Logan’s path, sending him running straight into open air. Without hesitating, he used his momentum to land on a beam of the partially-constructed building, then leapt across to another. The Crimson Marauder, still holding Gale Force, began flying up, but that only brought him to Logan’s level. The speedster leapt across from beam to beam again, landing a blow on the villain’s cheek. It sent the man spinning and caused him to drop the just-waking Patton. The wind-raiser caught himself before he hit the ground and threw himself once more at Virgil. Prepared this time, Virgil leapt into the air to dodge the attack, then came slamming down with a punch to the villain’s jaw. Patton staggered back and tripped, but remained conscious.

“Getting a little hot, Pattycake!” Roman cried from where he dodged and weaved around Logan’s quick jabs.

“Just like you, Romano Cheese!” Patton called back. He took off into the air, spinning a wall of air to knock Logan back. The moment gave Roman enough time to gain altitude above where Logan could reach from the growing building. Virgil flew up, ready to follow, but Logan shook his head. Instead, Virgil hovered in the air by his partner as the two villains flew off once again, much slower this time.

“We got them away from their target without anyone else getting hurt. That’s what matters,” Logan commented. He looked up at Virgil. “Is something the matter? What did Gale Force do to you before I arrived?”

“Lo, you might not believe this, but this Patton guy is actually tough enough to match me. I didn’t hold back at all.”

Logan looked worriedly at his partner, but was surprised to see some mix of awe and excitement on Virgil’s face.

“V? You okay?”

“I’m _great,_ ” the hero replied with feeling. “For the first time _ever_ I don’t need to worry about pulling my punches. I can just… cut loose.”

And over the following weeks, he did just that.

The villain duo were tricky - they never seemed to go for the traditional targets of huge gatherings of people or grand openings of buildings. They continued a string of sabotage attempts around the city, along with a host of thefts and small vandalisms. Logan and Virgil had officially become the on-call heroes for them. All the others on the HATCH call were too easily flustered by Gale Force’s unnerving dichotomy of viciousness and wordplay or by the Crimson Marauder’s distracting showboating and flattery.

Patton was loathe to admit it, but he was growing accustomed to their recurring opponents. They weren’t friends, of course not, but they were… familiar. Almost comforting in that familiarity. There was Reflex, powerful, huge, and yet Patton could tell he consciously chose to not punch the less-durable Roman with all his strength. The ginger man may have needed glasses, but he’d have to be fully blind (not to mention deaf) to not be aware of how attracted his partner was to the hero despite their opposition. And Patton… was not unmoved. He wasn’t one to lie about his feelings, even when it was an impossibility. A hero with a villain? Particularly _this_ hero, the strongest one the city had, with _these_ villains, the scourge of City Hall?

And then there was Doctor Vectorious. The speedster. Curse him and his muscled thighs and the way his forehead crinkled when he was frustrated with their latest scheme. The tiny sighs and barely-concealed smiles whenever Patton told yet another pun. It was incredibly rude of the hero to be this _endearing_ when he was the worst of his kind. Maybe it was his black-and-white goggles that gave him such a dichotomous view of other supers: either active hero, or villain. No in between. Which was rich, given that the ‘active’ heroes were never enough to save everyone. How many times had Patton wished he could have been just _a little faster_ that fateful day, and now a man who could have been thought he was in a position to judge?

Patton had thought he was alone in his frustrating attraction to the short hero until the villains were relaxing in their home one lazy evening. Stretching out dramatically over Patton on the couch, Roman had proclaimed, “These heroes will be the death of me.”

“No they won’t, my Crim-sunshine. Because I’d kill them first!”

“No, my love, not _actual_ death. Just… gay death.”

“Oh, yeah,” Patton hummed sympathetically. “That last time Reflex pinned you, I knew I had to get you free before you started moaning. They don’t need to know how loud you are.”

Roman flushed. “It’s just so _rude_. His nickname is ‘Flex and that’s all I want to see him do.”

“It’s okay kiddo, you’re a gay disaster. I love you anyway.”

“It’s _not_ okay!” Roman wailed. “Because the Doc was monologuing the other day and he pushed his goggles back and his hair was all windswept and _I tripped over my own construct._ ”

Patton flushed. “You… think he’s pretty, as well?”

Roman looked up from where he’d face-planted into a pillow to make eye contact with his partner. “Pat! My dear Gay-le Force, hater of all speedsters, finding our resident Doc Vectorious _pretty?”_

“No!”

“Ooohhhhh, you totally have a _crush_ on him!!” Roman teased.

“No more than you do!”

Roman giggled. “Darling, you said it yourself, I’m a disaster, that means nothing. My influence has been grand. You’re officially a gay disaster, too. Although in your case, maybe you’re a gay _natural_ disaster. Like, Hurricane Gay-trina.”

Patton grinned brightly at the pun, and kissed Roman on the cheek. “You have more experience with this, what do we do now?”

“Oh my dearest Pat,” Roman said with a smile, “now we scheme _harder_.”

“Why will that help us with the fact that we now both have crushes on the heroes who fight us on an almost-daily basis?”

“Because,” Roman declared, standing into a dramatic pose, “now we will scheme with debonair grace! We won’t just steal riches, we will steal their hearts!”

At that moment, the police scanner in the corner crackled to life. It had taken many tries, but Roman had finally found a way to tap into the hero channel, real-time reporting of the system they used to summon heroes in response to villain activity. And now, even through the static, the current report made him frown.

“...respond...Reflex…-torious...Antiques…Shadow…” a voice read out through crackles and pops of a shaky signal.

“Flex and the Doc?” Patton confirmed aloud.

“Sounds like it, my sweet summer breeze.”

“But they’re _our_ nemeses!”

“Well, we should go join them then, shouldn’t we.”

 

* * *

 

Ever since he’d been notified by the Mayor’s office a month ago, he’d been awaiting this moment. Logan sped through the city, focus narrowed only on his speed as he arrived at Something Borrowed Antiques in seconds flat. He knew Virgil was coming as well, but this was a case where it was Doctor Vectorious who was truly needed. As strong and powerful as he was, even Reflex wasn’t immune to the unique powers wielded by the villain known as Moonshadow.

Logan came to a halt at the corner across from the storefront and adjusted his goggles. He’d built them up to include tech of his own invention, including, on this occasion, binocular focus, night-vision, and heat signatures. He peered across at the building. Moonshadow was likely inside, but had they brought a lookout? A small movement above the door answered that question for him. It looked like a lizard - a chameleon, perhaps? - was crawling inside.

“Ah, so you’re looking out for them again,” Logan murmured to himself. He adjusted his goggles back to regular distance and sped across the street, entering the building and zipping through the grand halls in a barely-perceptible blur. He zipped and zagged through glass cases filled with dainty porcelain and around stately showrooms of gilt-encrusted furniture. He knew where he’d find the villain he sought, and it would be…

Ah yes. Right there. On the actual throne of some bygone ruler.

The villain was lounging across the velvet seat of the throne, admiring the jewel-encrusted rings that adorned every finger. There was a _lot_ of them to lounge, though at least half their height was made up by impossibly-long legs. An antique tiara perched on top of their head in sharp contrast to their artfully-mussed hair and ever-present leather jacket. Today, the jacket was paired with form-fitting leggings and a crop top that read “Royalty” in bedazzled purple and gold letters. As he ran closer, Logan could see the glinting rhinestones and jewels reflect in the sunglasses they wore even now, indoors and at night.

 _God,_ they were so- what was the word Virgil had used?

They were so goddamn _extra_.

Without letting his attention waver, without a single pause in his speed, Logan raced up to the reclining form and pulled them up roughly, pinning their arms behind their back and holding their torso pointed firmly away from himself.

“Good evening, Remy. Having fun?” he asked politely.

“Doctor, babes! How’s it been?” Remy asked, twisting as they tried to look at the hero holding them firm.

“In the month since you broke out again? Adequate, for the most part, but Corbin, of course, misses you.”

“Aww Corbie, what a sweetie. I knew he cared under all that bluster of ‘No I can’t let you out’ and ‘Do the crime, serve the time’,” Remy drawled. “I suppose I’m going back to visit him again?”

“Yes, Rem. As a reminder, not that it ever makes a difference, this,” Logan said, free hand gesturing to the stately room, “is _theft_. That’s when you take something that isn’t yours without asking or paying for it. Much like that bank heist you pulled off last month.”

“But Logan,” Remy said earnestly. “No one’s _using_ it, why can’t I have it? Finders keepers, right? C’mon, just let me take some bling. It’ll be funny.”

Logan used both hands to hold the villain now, rolling his eyes. He supposed that it was only fair that the one villain who knew part of his secret identity was the one he’d been capturing and re-capturing for three straight years now.

“Rem, put the rings back on the throne. All of them.”

“But Lo, baby, honey, sweetie,” Remy pouted. “I look so good in them, right? Like, I know I make the tiara work, but _hun._ You should see me in a crown.”

Logan sighed pointedly as the villain fidgeted in his grip.

“C’mon, it’s not like anyone told me to leave,” they complained.

“Remus, I truly do not know how to explain it more clearly than I did last time: if you use your ability to make people forget they’ve seen you, that does not count as consent for you to continue doing whatever you’re doing.”

“But consider this: it’s funny.”

Ignoring him, Logan adjusted his grip, freeing one hand to send a message to City Hall. “Is Damon here tonight? I thought I spotted him outside.”

“You know I would never break our national no-snitching policy, babes.”

A clatter from outside, followed by an angry hiss that dissolved into a string of swears, made Logan quirk a smile.

“Ah, I see Reflex has arrived. That must be him and Damon now.”

The villain in his grip sighed contently. “I love our little catch-ups, Lo, but you know I _always_ love to see my boi ‘Flex.”

“I _will_ have a hold on you, so you will not be seeing anyone. Don’t you try anything on him,” Logan warned.

“You never want to share _anything_ ,” they pouted. “Or anyone.”

“Reflex, we’re in here!” Logan called, ignoring the captive villain. “I’m holding them away from the door.”

“Thanks, Doc!” Virgil called back. He entered the room, carrying a skinny man of medium height over one shoulder. “How’re they?”

“Better now that you’re here, ‘Flex,” Remy called, unable to turn towards the hero. “Are you manhandling my boyfriend again?”

“No, I _love_ being carried like a sack of potatoes,” the man replied from Virgil’s shoulder. He wore a yellow and black bomber jacket. Unlike his partner, he actually wore a mask that covered his eyes and half his face and was attached to a black bowler hat. The eyes underneath it had reverted back to their normal hazel, but scales were still visible in spots on his face and hands. The multi-colored chameleon scales still matched the wall color, sticking out starkly against the puffy burn scars that protruded out from under his mask.

“Put him down!” Remy complained. “No hands on the boyfriend unless it’s an open invitation for us both.”

“Yeah this is _definitely_ the time and place for that offer, babe,” the man drawled.

“Doc, is containment on the way?” Virgil asked, ignoring the couple’s back-and-forth.

“Yes, they should be arriving… just about now, actually.”

The two heroes towed their captives towards the front of the building, where Logan’s sense of timing had not yet failed him. A green truck was parked outside, labeled ‘City of Harmony: Enhanced Ability Containment Unit.’

A tech in green coveralls approached the heroes cautiously. “I’ve got the stasis cuffs, Doc, you ready?”

Logan nodded, and shifted his grip to hold Remy’s head towards the building. The tech came forward and snapped cuffs around their wrists. Virgil deposited the man he’d been carrying on the ground.

“Does he need cuffs too?” the tech asked.

“Technically, as a lookout only, he’s not guilty of any crimes-” Logan started, but was interrupted.

“Yes, I definitely do, I am very much guilty. Send me to lockup. Preferably right next to that one,” Damon said, gesturing towards Remy.

The tech frowned. “That’s… not really how this works?”

Virgil shrugged. “I mean, we could say he abetted an attempted burglary. Even if the real crime is just watching out after his partner’s dumb ass.”

“I heard that,” Remy called out. “And I’m flattered you’ve finally noticed my ass.” Another tech had cautiously removed their sunglasses, revealing eyes that looked like marble orbs. Finally able to move on their own, they turned to face the heroes and their boyfriend.

“What can I say, when the man’s right, he’s right,” the boyfriend in question replied with a shrug.

“Damon, you love me, right?”

“Nope, not at all,” Damon replied, walking up to his partner. He cupped the villain’s cheek in one hand that was still dotted with slowly-fading scales. “Love is definitely not a term I would use.” He kissed them softly on the nose, and then on the lips, smiling as he did so.

“Well that’s _gay_ ,” Gale Force commented from the building’s roof.

“Not as gay as me,” the Crimson Marauder pointed out as he landed on the other side of the small group assembled by the truck.

 _“Fuck,”_ Virgil said with feeling. “Quick, get Rem- get Moonshadow into the truck,” he told the techs.

“What about the Viper?”

Virgil quickly glanced behind him to see Damon kissing Remy firmly, than suddenly shrinking as he transformed into a chameleon once more.

“Let him go, he’ll turn up soon,” Logan called out as the reptile skittered off into the shadows. In less than a breath’s time he was back-to-back with Virgil, both keeping eyes on the two newly-arrived villains. Without needing to speak, both heroes moved out into the street, away from the civilians.

The Marauder strolled closer, towards Logan. “So, less than two days from our last encounter and you’re already hanging out with _other villains?”_

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Sorry to break it to you, but it’s true. There are others. So many others. It’s almost like it’s our job to stop acts of violence from anyone who tries it.”

“Are we just not enough for you anymore? Have our schemes lost their charm? Do I need to scheme harder? I swear by Barbra Streisand I will scheme harder!”

Virgil caught himself smiling fondly when he noticed a slight movement and heard the rush of air coming from Gale Force. He was moving immediately, grabbing Logan as he leapt away. The targeted gust hit the pavement where they’d been standing hard enough to dent.

“Look at how fast you move!” the ginger villain beamed down at them. “This is why we’re so well matched, kiddos!”

Virgil set Logan back down on his own two feet before whirling to face the air manipulator again. “What do you want? You two don’t usually drop in on us, we just stop you,” he demanded.

In a flash of red, the Marauder was lounging on a floating platform just above Virgil’s head. “Would you believe me if I told you it was to just to get your attention?”

“You’ve had our attention,” Logan remarked drily. “You’ve yet to retain our interest.”

Roman sat up with a gasp, one hand splayed on his chest, the other draped gracefully across his forehead. “Cads, the lot of you. My honor has been besmirched, my loveliness impugned, my-”

“Wow, you really are unbelievably extra any chance you get, aren’t you.” Virgil said, deadpan. He flew up into the air to dodge another wind attack.

“That appears to be a theme today,” Logan commented, casually side-stepping Roman’s recovery as he lunged at the speedster with a glowing red sword. “I believe I used the word correctly to apply to Remy earlier.”

“See, I told you the flashcards would help,” Virgil said earnestly, grabbing both of Roman’s arms with one hand and pinning him to his own platform.

“Wait, you have _flashcards?”_ the villain asked, incredulous. He lifted his head from where Virgil casually held him trapped. “What a Microsoft nerd!”

“Now Ro, we don’t need to be mean,” Patton admonished. Roman let the construct platform disappear so that he could fall out of Virgil’s grip, and Patton sent a breeze swirling through to buffet the tall hero back, allowing his partner's escape. “There are just so many new terms these days, what with the kiddos and their ‘moods’ and ‘yotes’ and ‘wiggles.’”

“Looks like I’m not the only one who needs vocabulary cards,” Logan muttered, running past Patton to spin the man’s body into dizziness.

Roman was just standing from his cushioned fall when a force pushed him back down. He was knocked flat on his back as Virgil’s weight trapped him there. Before he’d processed the fall, a hand grabbed both his wrists and pinned them above his head. He looked up into Virgil’s masked face, only a foot away from his, eyes boring into his own. All his constructs promptly faded as his fighting mind went blank.

“‘Flex, darling, you could have just _asked,”_ he murmured. It appeared the only brain function remaining was Excessive Flirtation. “It’s not like we haven’t both been thinking it.”

And Reflex… didn’t immediately scoff. A slight smile quirked at one side of the hero’s mouth. Roman wasn’t sure what he’d done right, but he was not above trying to press his advantage.

“You know, the city may label me the villain, but it’s clearly you on the wrong side of the law.” Letting his eyes travel very obviously up and down the hero’s body, Roman continued with a grin. “It must be a crime to look this good.”

Virgil snorted, his free hand coming up to cover his smile. “Really? Pick-up lines? That’s where we’re at now? I thought-”

A sudden cry of pain ripped his attention away. His head snapped up in time to see Logan sliding to the ground from the wall Gale Force’s winds had thrown him into. Without thought, Virgil was in the air, streaking towards the villain to keep him from hurting his partner again. His fist crashed into the grey-clad man, knocking him back ten feet in a single blow. Eyes blazing, he followed after, ready to strike again.

Gale Force whirled, sending twin tunnels of wind from each hand. One sped towards Virgil’s chest, the other towards where Logan shakily stood up once more.

“NO!” Virgil yelled, his voice booming out in a shock wave around him. Gale Force suddenly froze, his eyes wide. The Marauder, too, was frozen, but in mid-air as he flew towards standing hero. Logan, twice as far away, was unaffected as dusted himself off. Virgil raced over.

“Lo, are you okay? Any broken bones? Is your back alright? God, that was such a hard blow, I’m so sorry, I was distracted, I wasn’t protecting you-”

“Virge, I’m okay. It’s okay. I’m fine. A little bruised, but I was able to cushion the impact.”

Virgil grabbed the shorter man to him and hugged him, holding him tight. “Thank god. I’m still sorry. I should have been over here. Gale Force is clearly the bigger threat, and I let myself get distracted.”

“Distracted?” Logan asked, raising a single eyebrow. He glanced over at the still-stunned Crimson Marauder, and back at Virgil.

The tall hero flushed under his mask and released Logan. “Oh wow, look at the time, better get containment here before the freeze wears off,” he muttered, tapping at the communicator on his wrist.

“Gentlefolk of all genders, observe carefully,” Logan said, smirking. “You’re witnessing a truly historic event. Virgil 'Reflex' Skylar appears to, for the first time ever recorded, have been affected by another man the way he affects everyone who likes men.”

Virgil’s blush deepened as he nudged Logan with an elbow. “Very funny. You know it’s not the first time.”

Logan’s eyebrow rose again, this time quizzically.

Virgil half-smiled, still blushing furiously. “You _know._ You.”

“What?”

“Wait, did you not know?”

“Know what?”

“Lo, I’ve had a crush on you since the moment we met. I thought I’d been, like, pretty fucking obvious?”

Now it was Logan’s turn to blush as his brain, normally so quick, struggled to catch up. He opened his mouth to reply just as the same green trucks from before pulled up.

“I- we can discuss this later. Once we’ve gotten these two safely secured.”

 

* * *

 

D.R.E.A.M. Index #337397

Classification: M.2.ii [Secondary Tier Neutral, Acquired Powers]

**Name: Moonshadow**

Status: INACTIVE

/////////Reason: Incarceration

Civilian Name: [CLEARANCE: CONFIDENTIAL] Remy Dormions

Affiliation: Villain

Partners/Sidekicks: DI#337500 - The Viper

Primary Foes: DI#337255 - Dr. Vectorious

Powers: Short-term memory manipulation;

/////////It was previously thought they had invisibility powers, but security cameras have shown us that they can just cause onlookers to forget seeing them until they’ve passed from view

Costume: N/A

/////////They just wear a leather jacket and sunglasses even when it’s not necessary, like when it’s raining or nighttime or _indoors_ -LL

Age: 25

Height: 6’5”

Pronouns: They/Them

_H.E.A.R.T.S. Class of ‘15_

Note: Started neutral - more chaotic than evil. In the words of DI#337255 - Dr. Vectorious, “They’re not motivated by evil, but they just don’t seem to understand you can’t just take whatever you want.”

 

D.R.E.A.M. Index #337500

Classification: M.2.ii [Secondary Tier Neutral, Acquired Powers]

**Name: The Viper**

Status: ACTIVE

Civilian Name: [CLEARANCE: CONFIDENTIAL] Damon McLeggan

Affiliation: Neutral

Partners/Sidekicks: DI#337397 - Moonshadow

/////////Less super-partners in the traditional sense, more he’s occasionally dragged along with them and tries to keep them out of jail

Primary Foes:  N/A

Powers: Shape-shifting [reptile forms only]; Poison secretion

/////////While shifting to reptilian forms can happen almost instantly, some quirk of the mutation means the shift back takes much more time. We’ve recorded a lag of over 24 hours after a shift.

Costume: Black and yellow bomber jacket, bowler hat with attached mask

Age: 23

Height: 5’7”

Pronouns: He/Him

_H.E.A.R.T.S. Class of ‘12_

Note: Inciting incident: some memory loss regarding exact details, but apparently was forced to be bitten by a snake that had been genetically manipulated by DI#265333 - The Mystic Magician; Rescued in the raid on MM’s lab, but sustained severe burn scars from MM’s attempt to blow the lab as the heroes invaded.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell I love writing the boys as gay disasters? Can you also tell that I am in love with Remy? 
> 
> An additional fun fact: I have a [playlist](https://rosesisupposes.tumblr.com/post/183570154719/another-goddamn-hero-playlist) for this AU that consists of [update] **34** songs, 11 of which are Panic! at the Disco. I regret nothing.


	6. The Fear of Falling Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time, Patton met Roman at the most important and pivotal moment of his life. The rest, as they say, is history.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **WARNINGS, this chapter only: major character death;** graphic violence; child abuse; child endangerment; allusion to human experimentation; manslaughter; child death;

If he concentrated particularly hard, Patton could dimly remember his parents. He could remember some amount of warmth, some amount of softness. He was sure they’d loved him and his little brother. But Thomas has been only one year old and Patton three when they died and the brothers Sanders entered the foster care system of Harmony City.

When he was younger, Patton spent hours and days imagining who they could have been. Were they good people? Were they supers? Had they been heroes or villains or just civilians? He would never know. The foster home didn’t release records to children in the system until they aged out, or were adopted. And now, of course, any records were long gone.

Harmony City Foster Home was pretty decent as foster homes went. The bedrooms were all airy with big windows and not too cramped - Patton and little Tommy shared with two other sibling pairs. They each had their own bed and small dresser, and were encouraged to decorate and keep their own small possessions. Pat had a stuffed Pooh Bear that had come with him from their birthplace, and Thomathy had a matching Piglet. The tiny courtyard with its spindly trees became the Hundred-Acre Wood as Pooh and Piglet rambled and ran through, joined by other children their age. Leo, three years younger than Patton but twice as energetic, bounced and leapt around the yard as if he was made of rubber and spring, just like Tigger. Brittney was Rabbit, and she and Thomas shared the bond of being only a few months apart in age. Valerie was Kanga, of an age with Pat and the best at dispersing fights as she caught everyone’s attention with her shouts. And when Dahlia and Derionna joined the home within days of each other, and both latched on immediately to Valerie, they became known through their little community as Roo and RooToo.

Their crew of Hundred Acre Woods friends were only a small fraction of the children who lived at HCFH, though. Patton loved having so many friends his age and younger, but they were part of an unusually high spike in surrendered and orphaned children. Potential parents came in every day, but with such a high volume that some categories of children were adopted more quickly than others. The infants, for families who wanted to be part of a child’s whole life, or as much as possible. The charming but calm toddlers, who weren’t too shy but didn’t overwhelm. The quiet crayon artists who didn’t run away when approached.

The Parsons, the married couple who ran the home, had long since figured out that the Sanders brothers were a package deal. Once, they’d tried to convince the boys to sleep in the dorms with children their own ages.

Once.

After the third time in one night that Patton woke in a panic, convinced that something had happened to his brother, and they realized Tommy had yet to sleep a single wink as he kept checking the room for Patton, they realized it was far wiser to keep them together, and never allow them to be split up. Patton was grateful he’d never have to watch his little Thomathy be adopted without him. He couldn’t bear to think of how scared his brother would be, going off to a strange new home with people who didn’t know his favorite nursery rhymes, or his favorite color, or the best way to hug him when he was scared. But adopting two children at once was more of a burden than many potential parents wanted, particularly when there were so many children in need.

One of Patton’s first and strongest memories of the foster home was when he was five, sitting in the courtyard after a visitation day.

“Pattypattypattypatty!” a tiny voice cried, weaving through the many children outside. Valerie came barreling around a group of glaring ten-year-olds.

“Val! Hi!” Patton yelled back, grabbing her in a hug as she reached him. Roo and RooToo swung their legs over the side of a tiny wall, and Tigger and Piglet were off trying to climb a tree again.

“I got ‘DOPTED!” their Kanga announced, voice ringing and echoing off the walls.

“YOU DID?” Patton couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice.

“YES! Misser Jenkins! He’s my new papa!”

Patton swung her around, or tried to, but his legs weren’t quite built for carrying. They fell over on the threadbare grass, giggling.

“I’m gonna live with him, an’ Damon!” Val told Pat, her grin showing the gap in her teeth from her first lost tooth. “We’re gonna be brother and sister! And we’re _adopted!”_

Now the whole crew had come over, covering their friend in a puddle of affection. Dahlia was the first to run to the group of seven-year-olds to pull Damon over.

“‘Dopted?” she asked, evading the lisp that often made her too shy to speak.

The older boy smiled. Damon had never been part of the Hundred-Acre-Wood crowd, but they all knew him as an older brother already. He was tall for his age and constantly stood up for the younger kids when they got in an older kid’s way, but was always able to blend in with whatever group he ended up with.

“Yeah, it’s true,” he said, letting Dahlia tow him by the hand to their group. He smiled almost bashfully as he opened his arms to Valerie. “We’re gonna be sibs!”

She grinned and threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

Thomas came up besides Pat and grabbed his hand. “Does that mean you’re leaving?” he asked in a small voice.

“Yes, Tommy,” Patton answered for them. “They’re gonna leave, but they’re going _home_. They have a papa now. They’re gonna be siblings, just like us.”

Thomas smiled at that. “Oh! Okay. Will you come back an’ see us?”

Damon patted Valerie’s head a little awkwardly, not sure how to respond to the continued hug. “I hope so, if our new papa lets us.”

“Of course he’s gonna, they’re our friends!” Val assured him.

The Parsons eventually came to round them up, and helped Val and Damon pack over the the next two days of further visits and paperwork. At last, Pat held Thomas’ and Leo’s hands as Dahlia and Derionna clung to his legs and Brittney wrapped her arms and legs around him in a piggyback, and they all waved furiously as Val and Damon got into the car to go _home_. They weren’t the only children leaving that day. The semicircular driveway was filled with cars and bags, surrounded by smiling adults and children and the Parsons everywhere at once, getting papers, hugging toddlers goodbye, kissing infants’ cheeks, shaking parents’ hands, and wiping away happy tears.

It was usually the youngest who left. Parents love the idea of a baby, maybe a little toddler, but the older a child, the less likely they’d be adopted. Two children together was less likely, particularly if they were older. But when parents chose two at once, like Mr. Jenkins, they generally picked a boy and a girl. Nevermind the silliness of a binary, of course.

One of Patton’s second most detailed memories came just four months later.

They haven’t found a new Kanga, but they’d invited other children into their games. Even as they hoped that Val and Damon would get to visit soon, they still needed playmates. Patton missed Val too, but he was a bit busy at the moment.

“Can _not!_ ”

“Can too!”

“CanNOT!”

“Can TOO!”

“Hey!” Patton interjected, pulling Thomas and Derionna apart. “No yelling!” He imitated Miss Parson’s familiar pose, one hand on his hip and one finger shaking. It never failed to make his kiddos laugh.

“Pattyyy, she says I can’t make a new aminal for the Hundred-Acre Wood!”

“He _can’t ,_ ” Derionna insisted, her fluffy hair flopping into her face as she shook her head. “You can’t jus’ make new ones! They don’t _fit_.”

“But I don’t wanna be just Piglet, I wanna be a turtle!”

Patton sighed, putting both hands on his newly-six-year-old hips. “Deri, Tommy wants to ‘magine. You should let him.”

“But then we won’ have a Piglet an’ we’ll have to explain why there’s a turtle an’ Teddy is a silly name for a turtle anyway!” Derionna insisted. The others were too occupied to pay attention - Brittney had discovered how to give piggyback rides and Dahlia was whooping with joy as she flew around the courtyard on his back as Leo watched, giggling.

Thomas pouted. “Why can’t I be both? It’s not like we gotta real Wood. Why can’t I be a turdle?”

“Cause it’s not part of the _story,”_ Derionna scowled, and they were tussling, trying to push the other in the dust.

“Knock it _off_ ,” Pat insisted, pulling Thomas away. “Come on, Tommy. Stop it!”

He dragged his brother behind him, pulling him inside and away from the squabble. It was playtime on a nice day, so the halls were quiet as Patton marched Thomas to their room. If it hadn’t been so quiet, they might not have noticed the sounds coming from the Parsons’ sitting room.

The brothers peered in, seeing the flicker of a television. TV alone would have been intriguing, as it was largely forbidden to the children, but Ms. Parson was crying in her wife’s arms. It was the soft sort of cry, with just occasional hiccups, one that Patton could tell meant she’d been at it a while.

“Ms. and Miss?” he asked quietly. “Do you need extra hugs?”

Miss Parson looked up, her eyes also red. “Oh, Patton honey, shouldn’t you be outside?”

Thomas looked guiltily at the floor. “I was arguing so we came in.”

Now Ms. Parson sat up, too. “Oh, boys. I’m… I am so sorry.”

The Sanders brothers stared, confused, as she continued. “Come here. We were going to tell you all but we know you were close. Come on up.”

She muted the TV as the boys scrambled up onto the couch in between them, Thomas settling in Miss’s lap.

“You know we love you, and all the children here,” Ms. Parson started, smoothing Patton’s mess of curls. “We would never put you in harm’s way on purpose. We would never send you home to anyone we thought might even _dream_ of hurting you.” Her fingers shook, though her voice remained even, barely.

“We… were wrong,” her wife continued. “An adopter lied, very well. Enough to get past all our checks. And we weren’t the only home fooled.”

Ms. took a deep breath. “Mr. Jenkins didn’t want to adopt children. He wanted... experiments. They caught him at it today.” She indicated the television screen. Patton turned to stare. There were superheroes on the screen. Normally he was overjoyed to see them, and he and the other children often waved to any who flew overhead. But something seemed off. Their faces were solemn, or pained, and they were outlined in the angry glow of fire. They were carrying what looked like children. But-

“He was trying to change them into supers,” Miss Parson said softly. “They don’t think he succeeded, but he… hurt them.”

Thomas was staring at the screen, transfixed. The banner read ‘Local mad scientist horrifies city with human experiments,’ as supers carried young forms with claws and fur growing at painful angles out of their skin. ‘Calls self Mystic Magician, charged with over 20 counts of child endangerment and murder.’ Other forms were covered in cloth, but oddly-shaped limbs and horns were still visible, backlit by the burning lab behind them.

Thomas spoke up quietly. “But Val and Dam’n went with Mr. Jenkins.”

Ms. Parson’s eyes spilled over again as she pulled Patton close. “Yes, love. I’m so sorry. We don’t know what happened to them yet, but we know that they were… there.”

Thomas struggled out of Miss’s lap, reaching for Patton. “Pat, they can come back now, right? You can make it better, like when I get a boo-boo?”

Patton hugged his brother, still staring at the TV footage. “I dunno, Tommy.”

Miss took a shuddering breath. “Sweeties, I… they won’t be able to come back. I… if they were lucky enough to... they would still be very hurt. They’ll go to a special school for children like them, where even if they’re hurt they might recover. Band-aids and kisses aren’t quite enough for this.”

“It’s a very nice school,” Ms. assured them. “Remember Jamahl, and how he made music out of everything?” Both brothers nodded, still clinging to one another. “He’s a super, and he went to this school for other supers. And they can take care of him in a way we can’t, and help him make even better music.”

“But- Val? Is she okay? Will we see her?” Pat asked.

Ms. Parson wrapped her arms around both of them. “I don’t know, sweetie. I wish I could tell you, but I don’t know.”

 

* * *

**D.R.E.A.M. Index #265333**

Classification: Z.3.iii [Tertiary Tier Villain, Anomaly]

Name: The Mystic Magician

Status: INACTIVE

/////////Reason: Incarceration

/////////Sentence: Life in C.H.E.A.C.U.

Civilian Name: [CLEARANCE: CONFIDENTIAL] Andrew Jenkins

Affiliation: Villain

Partners/Sidekicks: N/A

Primary Foes: N/A

Powers: Alchemy/Transmutation

/////////Non-super abilities: PhDs in chemistry and biology and a MS in genetic science

Costume: Labcoat, purple gloves, safety goggles

Age: 36

Height: 5’6”

Pronouns: He/Him

_H.E.A.R.T.S. Class of ‘00_

Note: Convicted of 14 counts of first-degree murder and 20 counts of non-consensual human experimentation. Within those counts, 10 victims were under the age of 10; His stated intent was to make “everyone” super in some way, but he appears to have had little regard to their lives or personal desire to be super.

* * *

 After three years, they finally gained a new member of the group. The Hundred-Acre-Wood gang closed ranks and hearts after the news, shying away from new children and prospective adopters alike. Thomas’ nightmares got worse, and the Sanders brothers were moved into their own room in the aftermath, and if Thomas spent nearly every night clinging to his brother so that the shadows didn’t overwhelm them both… Miss and Ms. understood. Patton’s other kiddos knew they, too, could come sleep in his bedroom whenever the shadows were too dark or the nightmares too real.

When Patton was eight and Thomas six, a new boy came to the foster home. He was a cuddly nine-year-old who dealt with the small group’s barriers by grinning at them until they collapsed. Both Dahlia and Derionna were immediately taken with him, and Brittney squished his cheeks and grinned, and Leo proudly showed him how high he could jump, and Kenny was adopted as their Owl. Thomathy liked him too, but still couldn’t bear to have Patton leave his sight, no matter what. He’d learned to be scared of the world, anxious about others’ intentions and nervous about what was or wasn’t as it seemed. If there was one thing that Pat was now determined to do in life, it was to keep him safe, or as safe as he possibly could, and to be there whenever his brother needed him.

“Be careful, Tigger, you’ll hurt them!” Pat called as his tall friend ran by, Roo and RooToo giggling as they both clung to his back at once. “Look where you’re going!”

Leo nearly tripped over the edge of the pavement, but Kenny was there, catching the girls and keeping them all laughing. Thomas, though, had grabbed Patton’s arm, his fingers a vise.

“What is it, Tomma-llama?” Pat asked softly.

“They’re gonna get hurt,” Thomas whispered. “How will we save them, Pat?”

“They’ll be okay, I promise,” Pat whispered back. “It’s just a scratch at most, okay kiddo?”

Thomas nodded, but his brown eyes were huge with worry as he watched his friends, and his grip had hardly loosened. Patton peeled the fingers off his arms one by one and turned, urging Thomas to crawl onto his back. Steady from practice alone, Pat carried his brother to their bedroom, safe and inside, where no one could hurt them.

When Patton was ten, he made two realizations.

The first was about their future at the Harmony City Foster Home. They were now far too old for most of the potential parents. They were practically guaranteed to age out of the foster system here.

But at least they’d be together.

His other realization followed immediately on the heels of the first and threatened the one bit of safety Patton clung to. The whole home was glittering with excitement as Ms. and Miss loaded them all into two buses for a field trip. The words alone had been the source of endless speculation and entertainment for weeks. Maybe the ‘field trip’ was to a museum! Or a farm with ponies! No, they were definitely going to see a movie, or a play. No, a swimming pool. Or maybe they were going to Disneyland!

Despite the high expectations, no one was disappointed to find they were visiting the zoo just outside the city, the one with the huge park next door. Tommy excitedly pointed out all the turtles to Patton, whispering “That’s Teddy’s cousin!” The Hundred-Acre Wood gang had quite a lot of fun finding their namesakes in all the different enclosures, too.

“Patttyyy look it’s you!” Leo yelled, waving. And indeed, he was jumping up and down by the bear cage.

Derionna sniffed, surveying the huge animal with all the dignity a seven-year-old could offer. “That’s not Patton, that’s a brown bear.”

“But Pooh _is_ a bear!”

“Pooh is a honey bear!”

“But look! Brown bears eat honey,” Dahlia pointed out, reading the descriptive sign. “And Pat gives bear hugs!”

Thomas swung his and Patton’s linked hands, grinning up at him. “And my big brother would protect us all, just like the big bear, right Pat?”

Patton grinned, adjusting his still-new glasses to look at his brother more clearly. It was still a shock, how many details there were that he’d been missing before! Trees had individual leaves, he could see single hairs in Thomas’ messy tangle, and he’d been able to pick out the hiding rabbits in the small mammals house. “Of course I will, Tommy. Forever.”

“Forever is a very long time, Pooh.”

Patton grinned and ruffled Thomas’ hair even more, quoting back their favorite movie. “Forever isn't long at all, when I'm with you!”

The friends all swarmed Pat and Tommy in an enormous group hug, singing along.

 _“One thing you should know_  
_No matter where I go_  
_We'll always be together_ _  
_ Forever and ever!”

Miss and Ms. Parson found them then. Ms. was wiping away tears through a smile, and Miss was badly hiding giggles, but they both gathered them up to join the rest of the group.

All the children were set loose on the park next to the zoo, and the Parsons surprised them with gifts: jump ropes, beach balls, and some kites.

Leo, Kenny, Brittney, Dahlia, and Derionna decided on tag. Thomas, though, appealed to Patton with huge eyes that he _really_ wanted to fly a kite, and Patton was powerless to resist. Even if it meant a lot of false starts as Thomas ran back and forth, trying to lift it high enough to catch the faint breeze.

At least, panting, he sat on the grass. “Patty, why does the kite hate me?”

“It doesn’t! The wind’s just lazy.”

“Can you try?”

Patton was a bit tired from the busy day already, but… this was for Thomathy. So of course he tried.

He ran back and forth, trying to catch a puff of air as Thomas held tight to the string, watching eagerly. Finally, a breeze pulled the rainbow kite just a few feet into the air. Thomas’ face split open into a triumphant grin.

Patton looked back as his little brother, who was twitching the string to try to keep the kite aloft, and a wave of affection crashed over him. He giggled, and laughed, and waved at the kite, cheering it on.

“Come on! Up and away! You’ve got this!”

Thomas’ surprised shout of joy caught Pat’s attention as the breeze suddenly picked up, sending the kite wheeling and soaring so quickly that Thomas nearly dropped the handle. Patton ran over to help him keep a firm hold. Together they sent it swooping through the sky, the brightly-colored tail fluttering behind. Their laughs and shouts of delight caught the Parsons’ attention.

“Great job, boys! You got it flying!”

Dahlia was staring at the not-so-distant trees, frowning. “But the trees are barely movin’ over there, look. Why is it flying?”

“Maybe it’s the hill?” Kenny suggested, scratching his head.

But the breeze had stopped and the kite swooped lower and lower. Thomas watched in disappointment, but Patton felt… odd. He felt like he’d just run the length of the field, but he’d only run back-and-forth with the kite, and had just stood with Thomas for the last bit of time. His hands felt a little jittery. He looked down at them and saw they were shaking just the slightest bit.

“Okay kiddos!” Ms. Parson called. “Time to come back to the bus!”

Patton shook out his hands and helped Thomas gather up the kite, checking his hands every other minute.

That night, Pat waited until Tommy was asleep and sat on the floor of their bedroom. He placed a tissue, a paper crane that Dahlia had made him, and his stuffed Pooh in front of him.

He closed his eyes and tried to think about the moment with the kite. He’d been so _happy_ , seeing Thomathy’s smile and feeling the warm sun, and it had just fizzled around in his insides like a bunch of excited little honeybees and…

A puff of air lifted the tissue to float through the air, and the crane too, but the latter fell faster. Pat started, and the movement of air cut out immediately. But now he knew he hadn’t dreamed it. He could create wind out of nothing. And now that he’d done so deliberately, he was pretty sure he could do it again.

He pointed, and now a swirl of wind lifted his favorite bear off the ground, shakily. After a few airborne seconds, it fell once more, but Patton was grinning all the same.

“Tommy! Psst, Tommy!” he whispered, shaking his brother.

“Go ‘way, ‘m asleep,” the eight-year-old mumbled.

“Noo wake up, I gotta show you something!”

Grumbling, Thomas sat up, hair pointing in all directions. “Wassit, Pat?”

Patton concentrated, and pointed at the paper crane. It was lifted gently into the air on a breeze as a second one came to make its wings flap slowly as it flew over Thomas’ head.

“How are you doin’ that?”

“I dunno, I just _can,_ all I gotta do is focus.”

Thomas stared at Pat with wonder in his eyes, which suddenly changed to fear. “Pat- you’re a super.”

“I guess I am, why do you look so worried?”

Thomas grabbed Patton’s hand and dragged him closer, disrupting the crane out of its flight. “If you’re a super you’re gonna get taken away. Like Jamahl.”

Pat felt ice settle on his spine. “Maybe you’d come with me? Have you noticed anything weird when you feel a lot?”

“Uh-uh. Patty, I don’t want you to go! Please don’t leave me! What if you end up like Val?”

“It’s okay, Tommy, I won’t,” he assured his brother as a resolution came to him. “They won’t send me away if they don’t know what I can do.”

“You’re gonna hide it? What if they find out?”

“They won’t,” Patton said firmly. “I won’t let them split us up. Not ever.”

He kept his promise. Only Thomathy ever knew, entertained by late-night shows of swirling, dancing animals and birds, flying through the air of their bedroom. And when he realized that age might soon separate them, he made his case to the Parsons.

“I know I’m going to age out in a year and a half, but can I stay here until Thomas does too? I can start working, and help out around the building if you need - I just want to make sure I’m here until he’s 18.”

Ms. and Miss made eye contact. “Pat, you understand that the precedent is the real issue, here. If we make an exception for you, why not the next person to ask? And we’d run out of room.”

“It’s only because we’re siblings, though. And it’s at most two years, that’s not terrible, right? We can even move into a smaller room. I just need to save enough to move out. Or I can adopt him before he ages out. I just need some time to get a job and start making my own money.”

The Parsons’ hands were linked, and Ms. subtly squeezed Miss’s, then spoke. “We’re going to have to lay out some ground rules, but I think we can do this. Don’t tell the others, but it’s because you two are our favorites,” she added with a wink.

Patton grinned. “Thank you so much! I’ll make you proud.”

Miss put a hand on Patton’s cheek and kissed the top of his head. “I know you will.”

 

All things considered, having a job agreed with Patton. He’d been working at _Accidentally In Loaf_ for four months and had learned to make his own bread already. He’d used part of his first ever paycheck to buy Thomas a tiny little figurine of a turtle. He’d made it a tiny name-tag that said “Teddy,” and he now had a place of honor on top of their dresser. Everything else went into savings, an account that Ms. had helped him set up. Everything else went towards the hope of a home that was solely their own, where Pat could live with Tommy and maybe even his other kiddos, if they needed it.

He whistled as he cleaned the counter, daydreaming about the decorations he’d have and the family dinners he’d cook. There’d be a sourdough starter in the pantry, and dough proving on the counter. Thomas would be able to film his fun little videos in the living room, or maybe they’d even have a yard! And when Leo or Derionna or Dahlia or Kenny or Brittney visited, they could all cuddle up in a giant pile on the couch, just like they had when they were little.

His reverie was interrupted by urgent breaking-news music on the TV and a not-so-distant explosion.

“Live from downtown - current reports and footage of a clash of supers. The villain is unidentified as of yet, but the hero is our own Commander Eagle, on patrol with his sidekick, Silver Sparrow.”

Patton glanced over at the TV, where a graphic was showing a map of the fight. He did a double-take, then blanched. The radius of impact was right near the middle of the city, where the Northwest and Southwest quadrants met.

It was right on top of his home.

Without removing his apron, Patton sped out the front door of the bakery, ignoring questions and calls of alarm. He was a 15-minute walk away, but if he went down one block he’d be able to at least see home from here.

On the wide boulevard, there were distant blurs in the air. The Commander and Sparrow were immediately recognizable, up against some dark figure that could fly and rip up huge objects without touching them. As Patton watched, the heroes tried to lead the villain towards an emptier area, but the villain kept dodging and weaving, staying in the same spot directly over Harmony City Foster Home. Debris was in the air as signs and mailboxes were uprooted and used as projectiles against the heroes. No one would be able to safely leave the home, not unless someone got them out.

Patton started to run, eyes glued to the battle above. Passersby jumped out of his way, scattering like leaves in the street as he ran.

_No._

Winds picked up around him, pushing oblivious pedestrians aside as he raced towards his home.

_Please no._

Were his feet hitting the ground still? Was he speaking aloud? Minor concerns, paling at the feet of his massive, overwhelming need to get home as fast as possible, to be there, to keep his kiddos safe.

_No. No. No._

Another boom and thwap of air as villains and heroes collided overhead. A crash as a streak of moving bodies collided with an office building, sending shattered glass into the air, sparkling like deadly snowflakes.

_Be careful, you’ll hurt them. Look where you’re going!_

He was moving as fast as he could, only minutes away. He would get there. He would _keep them safe._

And then he saw the dark form uproot an entire water tower and send it hurtling towards the two blips that were the avian heroes. The Commander swerved and hit it away, protecting himself and his sidekick.

The world slowed. Patton tried to run faster, but his legs felt leaden and dull. The water tower creaked as it fell a new direction, tons and tons of water sloshing as it descended. The shadow grew as Patton screamed in alarm and desperation. A shadow twin of the tower grew on the ground over HCFH, painting the familiar roof tiles a dark crimson, no longer the friendly red of warm brick.

_Nononononono...!_

Everything snapped back into real time as the impact hit. A massive thud and crash as the tower crunched through the entire foster home. Patton wasn’t sure if he was imagining screams or it was just his heart as he watched in horror, still two blocks away, _useless_.

He ran until his feet were planted in the debris, surrounded by brick and stone, all demolished and soaked by the fallen tower. His brain helplessly echoed the names of all his kiddos, everyone he knew in the home.

_Leo. Brittney. Dahlia. Derionna. Miss Parson. Ms. Parson. Alicia. Kenny. Tammy. Lucy. Claire. Bruce. Amelia. Kenn. Danielle._

_Thomas._

He was stumbling through the wreckage, looking for any sign of life, when he spotted him. Hair not just messy, but covered in rock dust. A huge, dark stain on his chest that matched the jagged i-beam beside him.

“Tommy?” Patton said aloud, voice cracking. “Thomathy?”

He was able to pull Thomas out of the mess, holding him in his lap. He’d gotten so much taller, these past few years. He was sixteen now, asking Pat when he’d start liking girls, confused and excited by the answer of “maybe never.” And he wasn’t responding.

Everything was damp from the flood of water of the tower’s contents, but Patton suddenly realized his face was, too.

“Thomas, please, wake up,” Patton pleaded. “Thomma-Llama-Ding-Dong? Thomas the Dank Engine? Please, say something, kiddo!”

Thomas’ face was serene. Shouldn’t he be scared by all these loud noises? The heroes were still clashing with the villain, but it sounded like they were winning now. Patton smoothed his brother’s hair and found his hand came away sticky and red. Had he been playing with hair dye? He should know better.

“Tommy, come on, stop playing. Just say something, okay? Anything!”

He shook Thomas’ prone torso. The teen’s arm fell limply to his side, revealing the tiny figurine clutched in his hand. It was Teddy the Turtle, now cracked through and covered in brick dust.

Patton stared at the little thing. His first gift to his brother. His promise of their future.

And it was ruined now.

He looked up numbly. The heroes were still fighting the villain, working in perfect tandem as they swooped from side to side, circling and landings blows. Why were they still fighting? Hadn’t they done enough? Who did they even fight for?

Patton hadn’t noticed until this moment that the air had gone still. Dust didn’t move, no breezes carried away the coppery smell of blood all around. He saw that trees were moving gently in the distance, but here, all was frozen. He looked down once more and saw the dent in his brother’s head, dark and tacky with blood. He gently kissed Thomas’ forehead and shifted his body off his lap. He arranged the boy’s arms with care, making sure Teddy was still in his grip. And then he stood.

Winds came to his grip without a thought. They swirled around him, racing faster and faster, and lifted him slowly into the air. Had he been scared of heights before? He found he didn’t remember, nor did he care. He rose 10 feet, then 20. Bricks and debris started to rise as well, and with metallic creaks and scrapes, so did the tower. He looked up at the fight above him. Commander Eagle had subdued the villain, it seemed. The two heroes seemed ready to leave.

He rose further, up to their level. “Hey friends! Where y’all going? You just got here!”

“Who the hell are you?” the Commander asked gruffly.

Patton smiled hugely. “My name’s Patton Sanders, thanks for asking! I work at the bakery!” He spoke in his best customer service voice, cheery and bright. “You’re Commander Eagle, and you must be Silver Sparrow!”

The sidekick flew over, silver costume shining in the day’s sun. “Yes, we are. Can we help you?”

“Why yes you can!” Patton continued, still smiling cheerily. “You can _bring my fucking brother back to life, you bastards._ ”

Air rushed around them, carrying the debris from below. In a breath, both heroes were surrounded in floating cages of rock and brick, sides contracting around them. The villain the Commander had captured had their own separate prison as Patton sent all three hurtling towards the ground at terminal velocity. He swooped after them, grinning as they collided with the ground in a rattling crunch. The sound hadn’t just been from the rocks. One shell broke as a silver-clad arm reached out. “Please, we didn’t realize!” Silver Sparrow cried. She was badly bruised, blood trailing down from her temple, but the cut was already healing.

“Oh, you’re okay!” Patton said, floating a foot back. “Sorry, I must have made a mistake. Won’t happen again!”

He gestured, and the waiting water tower dropped.

 

When he’d heard of the fight, he’d immediately suited up and flown towards downtown. When he saw the huge crater that was now in the middle of the city, he’d almost thrown up. A foster home? They’d managed to let ‘collateral damage’ take out an entire _foster home?_ Was there anyone left? He didn’t see any emergency responders, at least, not yet.

But he did see a mangled water tower that had clearly caused the destruction, but had been moved somehow. And he saw a small, blue-and-grey form in the middle of the wreckage.

He flew down to investigate and found he was suddenly flying through a wall of wind, struggling to make headway. A conjured hand behind him pushed him through to the cylinder of calm inside the column of air.

Now he could hear the sobs. The form he’d seen was bent over a body, ginger curls shaking with every wet, gasping breath. Bodies surrounded them, too, all clearly moved. Roman realized with growing horror that practically all of them were young, far too young. None looked older than teens, except two grown women who were still embracing, even in death. Further out, he saw toddlers, children, all still and grime-covered, all within a crater of destruction that centered at the one live figure.

The sobs stopped as Roman landed and slipped on a brick, causing a small rockslide.

“Who the fuck are you?” the man asked coldly, whirling to face the red-and-black-clad villain.

“I’m the Crimson Marauder. I heard there was a fight with one of my heroes. Are you... alright?”

The man glared through glasses with hairline fractures all through one lens. He seemed unaware of the grime and stains his blue polo and grey cardigan had acquired. “Are you one of them?” he rasped.

“No.”

“Good. Then leave.”

Roman hesitated, then took a step closer. “I… I think I should stay. You shouldn’t be alone.”

The man’s head tilted back in a terrible mockery of a laugh. “Too late.”

Roman suddenly realized this was barely a man before him. He was a teen, an older teen, but definitely no adult. He was a child who’d clearly lost far too much. Roman swallowed the lump in his throat.

“You know, I’ve learned a little something about revenge,” he offered. The boy’s head snapped up at the last word, blue eyes blazing as they met Roman’s.

“And what’s that?”

“No one will do it for you.”

There was a moment of silence, and then the ginger head nodded. “You’re offering?”

“Of course. Just one condition: what’s your name?”

“Patton.”

“Nice to meet you, Patton. I’m Roman. Come with me, and no one will mess with your family ever again.”

 

* * *

**D.R.E.A.M. Index #265351**

Classification: A.2.i [Secondary Tier Hero, Legacy]

Name: Commander Eagle

Status: DECEASED

/////////Recognition: Honor Roll ‘15

Civilian Name: [CLEARANCE: TOP SECRET] Albert “Al” Hawkins

Affiliation: Hero

 _/////////_ _H.A.T.C.H. Status: Inactive_

Partners/Sidekicks: DI#337236 - Silver Sparrow

Primary Foes: DI#337413 - Crimson Marauder

Powers: Flight (wings), Strength;

Costume: Silver flak jacket, green camo pants, natural wings (feathered)

Age: 33

Height: 6’0”

Pronouns: He/Him

_H.E.A.R.T.S. Class of ‘96_

Note: [Hall of Fame notes archived]. K.I.A. by DI#337437 - Gale Force;

 

~~~~~~~~~

 

**D.R.E.A.M. Index #337236**

Classification: A.3.iii [Tertiary Tier Hero, Anomaly]

Name: Silver Sparrow

Status: DECEASED

/////////Recognition: Honor Roll ‘15

Civilian Name: [CLEARANCE: TOP SECRET] Tamika Roberts

Affiliation: Hero

 _/////////_ _H.A.T.C.H. Status: Inactive_

Partners/Sidekicks: DI#265351 - Commander Eagle

Primary Foes: DI#337413 - Crimson Marauder

Powers: Flight, Durability;

Costume: Silver and blue jumpsuit, short silver cape in shape of wings, silver mask with beak

Age: 21

Height: 5’5”

Pronouns: She/Her

_H.E.A.R.T.S. Class of ‘12_

Note: Partnered immediately upon graduation with DI#265351 - Commander Eagle; K.I.A. by DI#337437 - Gale Force;

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi yes the title is indeed from This is Gospel, as was “Best of Us.” 
> 
> The WiP title, however, was “Hello naughty children it’s murder Thomas time”


	7. A Whisper in the Dark

Sofia Rodriguez was in a hurry and _really_ didn’t need any more delays right now, thank you very much. She checked her watch again in frustration, as if being more aware of the time would make her less late to her after-school job. You’d _think_ a bodega only two blocks from her home would be the most convenient thing, but today she despaired that she hadn’t prioritized proximity to school instead. Police had roped off the streets she normally took home for three square blocks, and her watch blinked the seconds urgently at her as 2:45 crept closer and closer.

She winced, as much at the time as at the reminder that her only working watch was still the plastic Disney Princess one she’d begged her mama for as a little girl. It was far too childish for a sixteen-year-old, not to mention about two gasps away from needing a new battery anyway. Maybe she’d be able to buy one with any extra money she made from this job, anything on top of helping with groceries and household expenses.

That is, if she wasn’t so late that she lost her job on the spot today.

She looked at her wrist obsessively again, walking as fast as she could without breaking into a run. 2:39, and she was definitely more than six minutes away. With a groan she ducked down an alley. The police hadn’t roped off her shortcut, luckily, so there was a chance to be less than five minutes late, maybe.

Coming out into the better-lit street, she heard a distant rumble. _¡Puñeta! Those damn supers better not be in the Heights,_ she thought angrily. Since the Fang Patrol had been rounded up when she was young, her neighborhood had been having a respite from active super activity, comparatively, at least. Tía Stephanie still prayed in thanks for how few attacks they’d had recently, while Sofia had often sat on the stairs eavesdropping while her family cursed the city for the old damages that had yet to be fixed.

Though, at the same time she hoped for uneventful days, there was a tiny part of her that still watched all the supers, that kept mental catalogues of her favorites, that admired their outfits. She pretended not to watch the news coverage on the tiny TV in the bodega, but she secretly thrilled to hear any coverage with heroes’ quips and catch phrases or villains’ dramatic manifestos. In a tiny box hidden well under her bed, she still had a tiny crown. She’d thrown it away in a fit of tears, when she’d first seen the beautiful Prince’s transformation, but she hadn’t been able to part with it, in the end, and dug it out of the trash.

She shook her head away from childish, daydreaming thoughts and picked up the pace towards her job, practically jogging now. She was now only a block away, and it was 2:45 exactly. She’d barely be late at all!

Someone bumped her as they passed, full-out sprinting. She almost cussed him out before she realized he wasn’t just an obnoxious jogger from a nicer neighborhood, but what looked like a worker in a polo and slacks. She looked around her and saw that he wasn’t the only one - people were running or ducking into houses or stores all around her, and some shops were preemptively rolling down their metal shutters. She risked a look behind her and cussed loud and long, a mixture of Spanish and English, as she sprinted the last distance to the bodega.

There were approaching clouds of smoke and debris, several blocks away now but approaching far too quickly, punctuated with rumbles and booms she’d been ignoring. She ducked into the safety of the store, the normally-friendly Mrs. Santos practically tugging her to the ground as she got Sofia inside and locked the doors. She muttered under her breath, something about shutters and madness. Two patrons who’d already been inside were huddled as far back from the windows as possible, but Sofia couldn’t bear to be in the dark - she had to know who or what was outside.

She peered out from the side, as little of her body exposed as possible. The cloud had gotten closer, and now she could see it was advanced by a series of explosions. Buildings burst with each rumble, glass and brick dust sprinkling down. There were now two distinct sounds - the screech of metal scraping against brick followed by the almighty crash of buildings bursting and falling. Sofia risked sitting up on her heels to get a better look.

The villain had dark silky hair that fell in long sheets far past her waist. Skin as golden-brown as Sofia’s own was set off by the dramatic black-and-purple costume she wore. She had what looked like feathered ornaments around her neck and wrists and cheeks. With a twirl, the villain’s mouth opened, and the sound of metal scraping rock sounded again as pieces of yet another building crashed to the ground. The ragged, torn skirt of the dramatic, medieval-style gown revealed scuffed black boots underneath as she turned once more.

Sofia realized with a shiver that the villain was breaking the buildings with her _voice._ The metallic screech was emerging from her throat. Which meant this must be The Violet Condor, one of the least predictable villains in the city. There was no sign the Condor’s most frequent companions, either, so the outlook was bleak, unless someone like Dr. Vectorious could be bothered to come all the way out to the Heights. Hopefully, she’d keep attacking just pieces of buildings, not collapsing them entirely regardless of occupants.

Suddenly, the dark-clad woman jerked and spun. She looked enraged, but wasn’t using her power to attack. It looked almost like there was a bee buzzing around her head.

Then the bee suddenly grew many sizes and proved to be a super, a short man who hit The Condor across the face before shrinking once more, zooming around her head. _Who is that? He’s one of the ones who hardly goes in the field, isn’t he? Why’s he_ _here_ _of all places?_ Sofia wondered.

The hero seemed to be winning, exhausting the villain with his dodging in and out, growing and shrinking in the blink of an eye. The Condor was unable to keep up with his changes, and had lost any focus on destruction of the neighborhood. Sofia breathed a sigh of relief. It was nice, feeling protected again, even for just a day.

And then with a start, she realized there was a civilian out there, in the blast zone. No, not just one, but several, hiding against the walls - how had she not seen them before? Was that…?

She screamed as she recognized her mom, her mom’s siblings, their children - her entire family was crouching against the far walls of the street, perilously close to the supers’ fight. Standing, she sprinted to the door, struggling to undo the locks with shaking hands. Mrs. Santos was there behind in an instant, and Sofia prepared herself to tell the well-meaning woman that she didn’t care if it was unsafe, she could _not_ just sit by while her family was hurt. But the bodega owner just helped her unlock the door, running out into the street before her, swearing in Portuguese.

Sofia was dimly aware of others sprinting into the open street, but her vision and attention were fixed only on her family members and the terror on their faces. She dodged rubble and other civilians as she raced across the block to them. A trash can flew through the air and landed by her as debris swirled around. She paused for just a moment, grabbed the lid to protect her head, and ran on. As she reached the opposite side of the square, she could see her little cousin Maria reaching out a hand towards her as she wailed. Sofia reached out to grab it, only to have her fingers meet air. The flame of protective fear was extinguished, replaced by the cold, curling knowledge that they’d never been there, that Sofia had run into the exposed street for mere shadows.

She whirled, seeing her sudden realization reflected in the faces of the civilians that now flooded the streets as she saw a very different emotion on The Condor’s face. It was abject terror and anger.

“No!” the purple-clad woman screamed. “No, you can’t take me back!” The feathers around her neck and wrists rippled. Sofia swallowed bile as she realized they weren’t ornaments after all - they were implants, growing out of reddened, angry flesh, flapping uselessly in the wind. “You won’t burn us again, _cabrón!”_

Sofia had less than a split-second to react. She dove behind a brownstone’s front stairs as the sonic blast of the Condor’s voice howled through the street. It wasn’t just chunks of buildings falling out, now, but entire floors being removed and ceilings caving in. Sofia clutched her garbage lid with clammy hands, suppressing the urge to scream as chunks of stone and shards of glass landed on it and slid off. She wished in vain for an extra hand to cover her ears as she heard the cries of those who were more exposed than she, of the people who’d been out in the middle of the street with no protection. What could she do? She was just a sixteen-year-old girl, with a metal trash lid and no powers whatsoever. She was only just barely able to keep a part-time job to help her mom. The most she could hope for was getting out of this day alive.

Peering as much as she dared over the wall, braced to hide once more, she saw the size-shifter grow once more. His eyes darted across the street, and she could see his distress even from here. He seemed to stare _through_ the villain rather than at her, more concerned with the threats he saw around him, somewhere. Sofia felt ice spreading in her veins. Just like she had, just like the others who’d run out into the open heedless of danger, both hero and villain were seeing apparitions, convinced of their reality. And when supers were convinced of close danger…

The Violet Condor started to scream again, walls trembling and crashing as pavement rippled. The hero _(what was his name, Sofia couldn’t think of it, something about bugs?)_ seemed deaf and blind to her attack until he started flying directly towards her, shrinking as he went. He flew directly into the shockwaves of her ongoing scream, somehow able to struggle against the blast towards the very epicenter.

Sofia stifled a gasp as the hero, only just visible from the bright colors of his jumpsuit and jetpack, flew directly into the Condor’s mouth. Her screech wavered and distorted, until she started to hack and cough, choking on the hero himself. The sonic vibrations, instead of fading, got deeper, shaking the ground just as much as the air. Sofia risked a looked and flinched back under her trash can lid as the roar grew in volume and intensity, a terrible, apocalyptic melody over the percussion of debris and destruction. Parts of brick, shards of glass, and pebbles clattered on her lid, scratching her face as they missed her makeshift shield.

She thought she heard her mother’s voice, or Maria’s scream. She thought she saw her uncle standing in the street, or maybe her childhood Prince, the one whose gift of a crown was the only reason she was sure he hadn’t been a daydream. Or maybe, she just saw a smile, a smirk, a predatory grin through the dust clouds before something hit her head and everything became darkness.

* * *

**[UPDATE] D.R.E.A.M. Index #337261  
** Classification: A.3.i [Tertiary Tier Hero, Legacy]  
Name: Swallowtail  
Status: DECEASED  
/////////Recognition: Pending Honor Roll ‘18  
Civilian Name: [CLEARANCE: TOP SECRET] Terrence Williams, Jr.  
Affiliation: Hero  
 _/////////_ _H.A.T.C.H. Status: Inactive  
_ Partners/Sidekicks: N/A  
Primary Foes: N/A  
Powers: Shape-shifting: size reduction and addition; Tech-assisted flight;  
Costume: Bodysuit in bright florals; yellow, black, and white jet pack painted with namesake butterfly wings  
Age: 25  
Height: 5’3”  
Pronouns: He/His  
 _H.E.A.R.T.S. Class of ‘11_  
Note: Unconfirmed relation to members of DI#Z-3286 - Fang Patrol, but confirmed Hero and son of supers; Classmate and fellow scientist to DI#337255 - Dr. Vectorious; A less active hero, primary role as research/support to S.E.A.M. Stokes and Mayor Stokes.  
/////////Killed in IR 18-Z-0011 by DI#Z00000 - Unknown Villain

* * *

Everything was dark. Roman _hated_ the dark. Or did he just dislike it? Or maybe he just wouldn’t mind, were the dark to go away. He was… apathetic towards it.

But, wait. _Was_ it really dark? He wasn’t sure. He could see defined shapes, but everything was as washed out as twilight. There was a bed underneath him, one he could feel. It was strangely hard today. The lights were both too bright and too dim at once. The sun’s rays through the window struggled feebly to light up anything past the sill.

Roman didn’t have a window in his hidden home.

Sitting up was a monumental effort as he struggled against the invisible weights that dragged on every fiber of his muscles and skin. He wasn’t on his couch, not on his bed. He wasn’t home. He was somewhere alien, with no memory of how he’d arrived there.

Dimly, he realized he should be infuriated, or terrified, or… something. He should feel something. He should be worried that he didn’t. Was this the grey? Had it come on with no warning?

Where was Patton?

Where was _he?_

And why couldn’t he feel worried about not being able to answer any of these questions?

He looked around the small room. Plain, metal-framed bed. Small bathroom. Sparsely-populated bookshelf that was bolted to the wall. Postage-stamp window. Rough grey stone floor. Speckled, industrial style ceiling tiles. Fluorescent lights that seemed to be humming much louder than most of their kind. Either that, or there was some other electrical feedback, and it was putting his teeth on edge. He could feel the headache coming on. At least he was feeling _something._

He stood, grunting with effort, and shuffled to the door. The handle was locked, a fact he accepted without surprise or anger. But it confirmed his suspicion. He was in some sort of prison or hospital. He frowned, trying to piece together his last memories before waking up. They’d been fighting the heroes, and he’d visibly flustered ‘Flex for the first time, and then there’d been screaming and… dark.

So probably a prison, then. He’d never been in any prison before, but this one seemed a lot nicer than TV prisons always looked. Maybe Harmony City spoiled everyone. Or, at least, everyone outside of Sycamore Heights.

God, why was he so _tired?_ Or maybe not tired so much as… drained. Lethargic. Colorless. He knew without trying that he wouldn’t be able to summon any constructs. It felt like a another depressive episode, but he wasn’t usually this self-aware, not without his partner.

Where _was_ Patton?

Roman leaned against the door, already losing energy fast from the effort of standing. He noticed the electronic hum got louder as he did so, and frowned. Was it coming from the door, not the lights? He squinted through the opaque glass and was able to make out a faint blue glow. It pricked a memory, not a strong one, but a relatively recent one. Where had he seen it before? Something in a street, he thought, and he’d seen it from ground level. The weird van, from the day before. When they’d interrupted the heroes. That one villain had been handcuffed and pushed quickly into a truck with this same glow.

As if summoned, Moonshadow appeared on the other side of the fogged glass, sunglasses balanced jauntily on their nose. They removed something from their neck and held it near the door. Some odd clicks and whirrs later, it swung open.

“Hey there, Red,” Moonshadow drawled. “You gonna sit in there all day, or you want to party?”

Roman stepped out into the hallway, and immediately felt a wash of adrenaline and anger and nerves. “How did _you_ get out?”

The other villain smirked, petting the snake coiled around their wrist. “My honey never abandons me for long. C’mon, let’s go get yours.”

“Aren’t there guards?” Roman asked, flexing his fingers as he summoned his costume and a makeshift mask.

“Oh sweetie, put that away. Just follow my lead, yeah?”

Roman pouted, but kept the mask as his construct melted back, leaving just the loose t-shirt and drawstring pants he’d woken up in. He follow the lanky villain, listening to their quiet murmurs to the snake that was now snuggled around their neck.

He took the opportunity to take in their surrounding. It still looked more like a hospital than a prison, but each room’s door was a heavy slab of metal, and a glance out the intermittent windows showed high fences with barbed wire surrounding the building. The metal flickered with that same glow of the doors and the handcuffs.

“Have you been here before? What is this place?” Roman asked, speaking low just in case.

“Oh, yeah, all the time,” Moonshadow said. “Welcome to cheeku.”

Or, that’s what Roman heard, at least. “Whomst?”

“Cheeku. C-H-E-A-C-U. They like making their acronyms pronounceable, haven’t you noticed? It’s for City of Harmony Enhanced Abilities Containment Unit. Aka, Super Prison. Aka, home away from home! All my faves are here, and they know my favorite snacks and everything!”

“How do you escape so easily every time? Just this guy?” Roman asked, gesturing to the snake, who flicked a forked tongue at him.

“Nah, babes. He just comes when he gets clingy and doesn’t want to wait for me to escape on my own.”

The snake wriggled, falling off Moonshadow’s very high shoulder and landing on two human feet. “Yeah, _that’s_ why,” the man said. “Not because you got caught the same day as two powerful villains who can give us some cover for our escape, for once.” He waggled his still-scaley fingers in a little wave at Roman. “Hey, don’t think we met during the heist. I go by the Viper, but at this point it seems silly to hide real names. I’m Damon. This is Remy, who is unfortunately my partner.”

“Shut up, you love me,” Remy said, pulling the shorter man in for a kiss regardless of how very serpentine his face was.

“I do,” Damon replied softly, kissing back.

“This is precious, but can we free _my_ boyfriend now?” Roman asked patiently.

Remy was clearly rolling their eyes behind their dark glasses, but they broke off anyway and walked to the next door down. “Any other super friends who might be in here or just the wind-boy?”

“Wind boy? Really?” Roman glared at the tall villain, who ignored it. “No, no one else.”

They finally came to the room with a label on the door of “DI#337437 - Gale Force.” Roman peered through the door. It was easier to see from outside - Patton was lying on the bed, seemingly bored more than distressed. Damon was fiddling with the lock, his hands shrunk into tiny lizard appendages, until he grinned and the door swung open.

“Sunshine!” Roman cried, darting through to wrap Patton in a hug. “I missed you!”

“Oh, we’re free now?” Patton asked, looking over Ro’s shoulder at the tall villain and their boyfriend. “Thanks!”

Patton walked into the hallway and experimentally hovered, testing his powers. “Oh, good, for the a second there I thought I’d forgotten how!”

“You have the rooms to thank for that,” Damon muttered, shaking his arms out to try to get them more human again. “They’re Enhanced Ability Neutralization and Stasis Chambers. EANSCs. It works on all supers - no one can use their power while in one.”

“Is that what was in those cuffs, too?”

Remy nodded. “It doesn’t last as long or as effectively. Transporting supers here is the most dangerous part. Especially when it’s me. I’ve broken out before getting here about… hm, 70 percent of the time?”

“I didn’t realize your power was escapism,” Patton commented. “I thought it was invisibility or something.”

“Oh, no, hun. People get to see me, and they are _welcome_ for it. They’ll just never remember, if I don’t want them too. All I need is a second of distraction and eye contact.”

“And what about you, slimy boy?” Roman asked.

“I’m _scaley,_ you ass. I can only become reptiles. As you can see, though, it takes a while to get back,” Damon explained with a frown at his still-lizard-like fingers.

The small group finally came out into a open air, a guard station with a TV. The uniformed guards all started, standing with glowing wands, but Remy just wordlessly slid their glasses down and stared. The guards froze, their eyes turning to marble as blank as Remy’s own.

Roman walked over to one in interest, and flicked the woman’s head experimentally. No reaction. “Damn, that’s powerful.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Rem,” Damon’s voice interrupted. “You should look at this.” He stood in front of the TV, watching frantic news coverage.

Roman and Patton turned with Remy, all three trying to make sense of the chaotic footage. The street on the screen looked like a full-scale invasion had just ripped through. Everywhere, there was destruction. Not a single visible building remained standing and intact. And there were bodies strewn everywhere, like so many fallen leaves.

“Holy shit,” Remy whispered. “This… who is this?”

“They don’t know,” Damon murmured, stricken. “There was only one survivor, and she saw next to nothing.” The camera cut to a teenage girl, bruised, bloodied, and trying not to break down as medics extracted her from the rubble.

“That’s the Heights,” Roman said. “Someone attacked the Heights, and I wasn’t _there._ ”

“Honeybear, it’s not your fault,” Patton cooed. “It’s those terrible heroes, we’ll just fight them extra hard, okay?”

Roman sighed. “That won’t help, Patton.”

The reptilian man in front of him stiffened. “Patton?”

“Oh, sorry, we haven’t introduced you. Gale Force aka Patton, this is Damon aka The Viper.”

Now Patton stared as well, mouth agape. “...Damon? Damon McLeggan?”

“Oh my god, it’s you. Pat? This… you survived the collapse?”

“Dam’, I thought you died _years_ ago. In the explosion, in the lab…”

The two supers reached out, grabbing hands as if they expected the other to melt away. “I used to wish I had, Pat,” Damon said soberly. “Still do, sometimes. He was the one who did this to me,” he said, gesturing at the burns and scales alike that covered his face. “He’s the reason I’m a freak now. Not a proper super, too weird to be a civilian.”

Roman’s heart leapt out of his chest as he saw Patton actually start _crying._ “Did… do you know what happened to her?”

“She survived, if you can call it that. She… he deformed us both. But my mind wasn’t as affected. She was his favorite ‘project,’” Damon said with a shudder.

“Patton, who’s she?” Roman asked softly, supporting his partner with a warm hand on his lower back.

“Val,” Patton said, voice cracking. _“Valerie.”_

“My sister,” Damon said. “More related than blood could ever know. She… you’ve seen her, probably. She snapped. Only I can calm her down, ever. She’s out causing havoc as The Violet Condor now.”

“…oh god,” Remy said with feeling. “Damon… look.”

Everyone turned in their direction. They pointed a shaky finger at the screen. A solemn-faced reporter was flanked by headshots: a smiling black man, and a scowling Latina woman. “Civilian casualties are still being finalized, with the most recent count being 23. But we are able to confirm two known supers who were also killed, apparently by each other under the influence of the unknown threat:  Swallowtail, a close associate of Mayor Stokes, and The Violet Condor, a tragic survivor of the Mystic Magician’s experiments. Families of the fallen, if any, have been notified.”

The last two people who’d ever called Valerie “family” stared in heartbreak and horror.

“Fuck this,” Damon spat out. “Fuck heroes and villains and this whole damn city.”  Remy placed a hand on their partner’s shoulder, but Damon hardly seemed aware. “If not even she can survive in this shithole, why did we have to live through any of this? There’s a new bad whose bodycount has already passed records and I’m not staying around to see any more people I care about be added.”

“But we could get revenge for her, Damon,” Patton said. “We could make the bastard pay for taking away our sister. For our _family.”_

“…she used to say the same thing, after the home was flattened,” Damon said softly. “You two were always so alike, thick as thieves. Kanga and Pooh. I can’t do it, Pat. I can’t risk it anymore. I need to have something left - or someone.” He reached up and grabbed Remy’s hand where it was still resting. “Rem… let’s run. Leave this city, find a new one. Please?”

“Of course, my love. Anything for you,” Remy said softly, looping both their arms around Damon’s shoulders and kissing the top of his head. They looked up, making eye contact with Roman. “Take these stairs to the bottom and go straight out. I’ll stun the guards for your escape, but only if you follow that route exactly. Gucci?”

Roman nodded, and they were gone. Or rather, they’d never been there. Or rather, Roman and Patton had always been alone in this room, surrounded by frozen guards. Patton stared at the TV still, tears leaking out of his eyes. Roman wrapped his arms around him, holding him close. Patton was oblivious, not even leaning in as he normally did.

“I failed her, Ro. She survived, all this time? This is what happened to her?”

“Patton, it’s not your fault-”

“And this unknown comes out of nowhere, kills her, kills heroes, kills kids just trying to get home?”

“Pat-”

“I thought… I thought there was no more family to hurt,” Patton said, his voice a tight whisper. “I thought I had nothing left to lose. Well, _now_ I definitely don’t.”

“Patton, you’re scaring me.”

“Good. If I scare you, _they’ll_ be scared too. That bastard **will** pay for what they’ve done, whoever they are. I don’t care whose help we need.”

* * *

**D.R.E.A.M. Index #337498  
** Classification: Z.3.ii [Tertiary Tier Villain, Acquired Powers]  
Name: The Violet Condor  
Status: DECEASED  
Civilian Name: [CLEARANCE: CONFIDENTIAL] Valerie Torres-Rosario  
Affiliation: Villain  
Partners/Sidekicks: DI#337500 - The Viper; DI#337397 - Moonshadow  
/////////Much like his relationship with DI#337397, Viper is more a friend and caretaker than partner-in-crime to the Condor  
Primary Foes: DI#337255 - Dr. Vectorious;  
Powers: Supersonic auditory blast; Additional Powers - Unknown  
/////////Blast/stun effect while in earshot, less powerful at further distance  
Costume: Long-sleeved medieval-style ballgown in shades of purple with black leggings/boots;  
/////////Despite the appearance of ornamentation, the feathers are actually part of her skin, though do not serve any functional purpose  
Age: 21  
Height: 5’4”  
Pronouns: She/Her  
H.E.A.R.T.S. Class N/A  
/////////Attempted to enroll her along with DI#337500, but she dropped out at age 11  
Note: Survivor of DI#265333 - The Mystic Magician’s experiments, one of few successes of DI#265333’s attempts to imbue civilians with superpowers.  
/////////Pending: formal request to change term from ‘success’ - while no physical deterioration occurred due to the experimentation, new information from other sources indicate dramatic psychological change and damage, particularly loss of ability to filter emotions and a seeming loss of empathy/sympathy for anyone except DI#337500 and DI#337397  
/////////Killed in IR 18-Z-0011 by DI#Z00000 - Unknown Villain

* * *

“So.”

“So.”

“…since the moment we met? Really?”

Virgil reclined on Logan’s couch, lying upside-down. A perk of super-healing and a side-effect of flight was a lack of headrush no matter how he sat. He glanced up at his best friend and crush, who was sitting more sensibly with both feet planted on the ground. It was a lazy morning

“Yeah, Lo. I showed up at school, this huge kid who was absolutely terrified of himself and the world, and this tiny, beautiful nerd walked up and said ‘Hello, welcome to H.E.A.R.T.S., we’re here to help.’ Of course I fell a little bit in love immediately.”

“You don’t have to emphasize the ‘tiny,’ you know,” Logan muttered, adjusting his glasses over his continuing blush.

“But it’s part of your charm, L. You’re all this intelligence and energy in a small package, but never let anyone underestimate you. You’re a superdense bundle of brilliance.”

“…I… um. Thank you,” Logan responded, blushing deeper than he’d thought was physically possible.

“But, yeah, we had those two years of becoming friends. I was so worried when you and Terrence graduated, I thought you were gonna leave and I’d be alone again. But then you stayed, to get your doctorate. So I got to keep seeing you, keep spending time together. I thought you knew that I had a crush and just, you know. Didn’t return it. I wasn’t gonna let it affect anything, ever, especially while you didn’t seem to mind. And then I was 18 and you weren’t, so I really backed off until we’d graduated and you still weren’t tired of me.”

Logan adjusted his glasses again. “I… apologize for my complete and utter ignorance, Virge. I am truly unsure of how I managed to be so oblivious for…”

“Nine years?” Virgil added helpfully, smirking slightly.

“…yes. That.” He ran a hand through his hair, then paused as realization arrived. “Oh goodness, is this why you never dated anyone in all this time?”

“Nah, I haven’t dated because I’m awkward as all fuck out of costume,” Virgil said blandly. “But I’ve also yet to meet anyone who compares to you, so…”

Logan raised an eyebrow at that. “Not even the Marauder? I’ve seen how you’ve been flirting with him.”

“Okay _now_ you recognize flirting? Not when I _asked you to prom?_ ”

“…you asked me to prom?”

Virgil’s only response was to bury his face in both hands at once and groan.

Logan looked down at his best friend and super-partner of the last four years. He was aware of Virgil’s objective attractiveness, of course. His vision didn’t need _that_ much correction. Virgil was tall, and muscular, and utterly committed to protecting as many people as he could, whether he knew them or not. And he had a soft side, the loveable teddy bear side, where his whole body would shake as he giggled at memes, and he spent hours on the phone with his siblings and moms in between biweekly visits, and he got misty-eyed over street cats. He was powerful, but unassuming. He was aware of his ability, and did his best to do good, but never believed he was the only one capable. And Logan felt grateful, every day, that they were friends and partners. They were an excellent team as heroes, but even better as people who spent so much time together that they practically knew each other’s minds.

_Oh._

Oh, perhaps that’s what Virgil meant by having a crush. Perhaps that was why Joan kept “accidentally” sending him links to aromantic spectrum identities. And why Talyn kept mentioning quoiromantic and demiromantic attraction recently.

_Oh my god, I’m a fucking idiot,_ Logan thought.

“I mean, you’re also a PhD at 22 but go off I guess,” Virgil replied, one eyebrow raised. Logan clapped a hand over his mouth. He’d said that part out loud, apparently.

“Virgil, I apologize for taking so long to realize it, but-”

A sudden, urgent buzzing at their wrists immediately caught both of their attention, and they leapt up in an instant, changing into costumes and exiting through the window.

 

They were being sent to Sycamore Heights, just the two of them. No, all active supers were being called in. Fuck, no, it was Blackout level: everyone, every possible hero or neutral. Even the chaotic goods and quasi-villains.

And then the call vanished, replaced by summoning just Logan and Virgil to City Hall.

They walked in, not sure what to expect. The assistant at the front desk had his face buried in his hands. There was no bustle of activity through the halls. Virgil gently urged Logan to walk in front of him so that he could guard his back.

They entered the mayor’s office to find Joan and Talyn both sitting at the table, not the desk. Talyn’s makeup was smeared and wiped off. Joan looked older, more tired than either hero had ever seen them.

“Joan?” Logan asked softly. “What’s happening?”

“They killed Terrence,” Joan whispered. At the words, tears started to flow down their cheeks once more.

The blood drained from Virgil’s face. While he’d been flirting unsuccessfully with his best friend, caring more about relationships than the city, Terrence had been killed. He could have stopped this if he’d just been on patrol, just been anything other than selfish.

Logan made it to a chair before sitting heavily, in shock. “Who…? How…?”

“We have no idea,” Talyn said miserably. “He and The Violet Condor took each other out, somehow, because of a third villain we’ve never heard of. And we’ve got practically nothing. Just one single eyewitness who is also a terrified and definitely traumatized sixteen-year-old.”

Logan turned from his seat, and reached out to pull Virgil towards a chair too. “V, you’re gonna collapse if you just keep staring into space,” he said softly. “Sit, okay?” Virgil obeyed, numbly. “I’m here,” Logan whispered, rubbing the other’s hand. “We’ll figure out what to do together.”

Virgil shuddered, still staring into space. “I… we were gonna go to the club this weekend,” he said, voice low. “Terrence kept complaining that I never went out, and he’d convinced me to try. He was gonna help me pick out an outfit and everything.”

Talyn made a strangled sound into their hand, and tears leaked through their fingers. Joan wrapped a protective arm around them, rubbing their back.

Virgil was gripping the sides of his chair, white-knuckled in his effort to keep it together. Logan kept rubbing gently, but when the tiny _ping_ of the intercom went off, Virgil flinched and a chunk of the chair came with him.

“Fuck, sorry Joan,” he said as the mayor went to answer the summons. “I… crap, please tell me you two have a lead. If I don’t go punch something right now…”

“We can go to the supers’ gym,” Logan interjected quickly. “You can’t fight anyone like this, Virge. Not someone entirely unknown.”

Talyn sniffed, but straightened. “I… let me tell you what we do know, okay?”

“Is that okay, Virge?” Logan asked, peering at the tall man’s face for confirmation. “We can wait-”

“No, tell us now. We need to know. We need to _avenge_ him.”

Talyn’s mouth was a thin line as they looked from Virgil’s tear-stained scowl to Logan’s impassive mask. They sighed, and pulled a notebook over.

“This is from our sole survivor and eyewitness, Sofia. She, and she believes many others, thought she saw her family in the street and ran out of safety to find them. On reaching them, they disappeared. She says she also saw both the Condor and Terrence yelling at empty air in the last moments before… So the power appears to be some sort of mass hallucination and distress.”

“Did she see anything or anyone who appeared to be causing it?” Logan asked. His question was addressed to Talyn, but his gaze was fixed on Virgil.

“She thinks… a smile, in the debris clouds.”

“Very Carrollian,” Logan commented, trying to get any sort of reaction from his partner. “But that means either a further illusion, or an actor who did this deliberately, with full knowledge of the effect.”

“So, a whole new level of evil,” Virgil said. His eyes were bright with tears and fire. “A new low bar of wrong. But we’ll make it right,” he said, turning to Logan with determination. “Whatever it takes.”

“Whatever it takes,” Logan echoed. “I promise.”

Joan was standing at their desk, phone receiver to their ear. They slowly, slowly lowered it, staring out the window to the skyline of Harmony City. “Guys?”

“Yeah?”

“There are… visitors. At the front desk.”

“Oh dear, is it the families already? We can go-” Logan began, but Joan shook their head.

“They’re… for you. I don’t believe you’re expecting them. But… I think you should see what they want.”

“Who-?”

But Virgil was interrupted as the doors sprang open in a burst of wind. The Crimson Marauder and Gale Force strode in and stopped just beyond the threshold.

“Oh good, you’re here,” the Marauder said.

“Sorry about the door, my precious ruby over here just got a little impatient!” Gale Force said with a giggle.

Virgil was immediately in between the villains and the rest of the room, tensed in a fighting stance.

“You _really_ don’t want to mess with me today, airbrain,” he growled, low and dangerous. “I would _love_ an excuse to beat that fucking grin off your face.”

“Now, now, Flex, jumping to conclusions is just _so_ rude,” the Marauder chastised. “We aren’t here to fight. Or at least, not to fight you.”

“That’s right,” Gale Force added. “We’re here to make you an offer. It’s about this new villain.”

“Let me guess, you’re in league with him and you’ve brought his demands,” Logan said cooly, braced at Virgil’s side and ready to get Joan and Talyn to safety, if needed. “We’re not interested. We don’t negotiate with terrorists or mass-murderers.”

“My dear, sweet Doctor, you’ve got us all wrong,” the Crimson Marauder said, stepping forward with wide open arms. “We lost family today. We don’t want to bargain with that _mamabicho_ piece of _merde.”_

“We want to _destroy_ him,” Gale Force said, eyes cold. “We’re here to help you do that. We may hate this city, but the people deserve the best there is.”

“And here we are,” the Marauder finished. “So. Partnership?”

Logan and Virgil made eye contact. Both had an eyebrow raised in skepticism. Eyes flicked up and down, to the villains and back, a silent conversation whose vocabulary had been formed over five years of school friendship and four years of crime-fighting as a unit. Finally, Virgil turned back to the villains with a curt nod.

“Whatever it takes.”

* * *

**D.R.E.A.M. Index #337505**  
Classification: Z.1.iv [Primary Tier Villain, Unknown]  
Name: Agent Whisper  
/////////Coined by civilian eyewitness S.R. [They] didn’t exactly leave a calling card  
Status: ACTIVE  
Civilian Name: Unknown [Unregistered]  
Affiliation: Villain  
/////////We need a new affiliation label. Villain doesn’t cover it anymore  
Partners/Sidekicks: None  
Primary Foes:  [Unknown]  
/////////Can we list _everyone?  
_ Powers: Pathokinesis - Broad Spectrum; Illusions - Broad Spectrum; Additional Powers - Unknown  
Costume: [Unknown]  
/////////Reports vary from black shapeless cloak to jumpsuit with psychedelic patterns that moved, suspected use of illusions  
Age: [Unknown]  
Height: [Unknown]  
Pronouns: [Unknown]  
 _H.E.A.R.T.S. Class Unknown_  
/////////[They] could have been a student and we wouldn’t know. The power profile doesn’t match any records, however  
Note: All we know about [them] is that we know nothing about [them]. [They] are responsible for the deaths of the following:  
/////////list clipped as of 2018.11.17: see Incident Reports 18-Z-0011 through 18-Z-0047;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is Agent Whisper my worst fuckin’ nightmare? Yes, yes he is (and he’s yours, too)
> 
> [Note on timing: This story is set in 2018, when I first started writing it. The first chapter takes place in September, and we've now progressed in-world to early October]


	8. To Dust or To Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The heroes and villains enter their partnership, and meet their collective enemy. Logan and Virgil finally talk uninterrupted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: Hospitals, death threats, background character deaths, mild gore, hallucinations, self-hatred, description of depressive episodes, bipolar cycling

“So,” Logan began.

“So,” Roman responded, reclining in an ornate ruby chair.

“Sew buttons!” Patton interrupted, draping himself across Roman’s lap.

Virgil growled in frustration. “Can you please focus for a single second?”

The heroes had relocated to the supers’ gym, still anxious to keep the untested villains away from the mayor.

“We don’t take orders, Reflex,” the Marauder replied evenly. “We’re only here because you two don’t seem as incompetent as the rest of the super assholes.”

“You don’t need to take orders,” Logan said, shooting Virgil a reassuring look even as he spoke. “We just need to know what exactly you can do, and plan how we’ll stay in contact.”

“Asking for my number already? I couldn’t possibly, not so soon,” Roman responded, fluttering his eyelashes.

“We’re not joining your ‘hatchet’ or whatever you call it,” Patton added. “We’re here to take down a murderer, not get sucked into the system.”

“We’re not asking you to join H.A.T.C.H.,” Logan said patiently. “But if we don’t know where you are or how to contact you, that just makes you a liability.”

“Actually it’s just an _air_ ability,” Patton quipped back. His lips didn’t twitch. He didn’t grin. But the smugness was palpable from across the gym. Logan lost his train of thought at the overwhelmingly familiar feeling of a punster at work. He could practically see his dad’s irritatingly-pleased grin shining through Patton’s smooth mask.

Virgil, a true hero, came to Logan’s rescue. “So, air ability. Air manipulation, no matter where the air is, yeah? Inside or outside of a person?”

Gale Force paused, then nodded.

“And you, Shiny Red Boy, any limitations we need to know about?”

The Crimson Marauder gasped. “Shiny red boy? That’s the best you can do? I am appalled, I am disgusted, I spend my life dedicated to being chaotic neutral and this is the thanks I get??”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Okay, Drama Red Queen, shall I paint the roses for you or are you going to answer the question?”

“Joke’s on you, I like that nickname,” Roman said with a sniff. “I just need to keep focused. And my constructs can only be autonomous if they’re tiny. And I can’t do more overall mass at once than something about the size of this entire room.”

Logan looked around the echoing room, designed for whole teams of heroes to practice in at once. “That’s some power,” he said softly. “And limited only by strength of mind. Fascinating.”

“And what about you two?” Patton asked in a saccharine-sweet voice. “You wouldn’t get us to divulge details without returning the favor, would you?”

“I have, as you’ve seen, a super speed ability. I can also speed read or manipulate just a hand or limb to go at enhanced speeds. I can go from 0 to 60 in .0001 seconds, and my top recorded speed is 1,700 miles per hour, or approximately 2,700 kilometers per hour.” Logan responded matter-of-factly.

“And what about you, Tall, Dark, and Muscly?” Roman asked.

“I picked my super name as Reflex for a reason. I’ve got fight, flight, and freeze. Super strength, superflight that can rival the Doc here for speed, and the shockwave you both saw the other day. I send out a burst of energy that stuns or knocks out anyone in a given radius.”

“Can you control who it affects?” Patton asked curiously. “Or is it just anyone?”

Virgil’s mouth twisted. “I can sometimes control it, yes. If I’m focused, and I’m not too upset at the time. It’s not guaranteed.”

“How upset were you the other day then?”

“You’d just attacked my partner. I was _pissed,_ but in control. If you’d more seriously injured L- the Doctor, you might have needed more than one day to wake up from the coma I put you both in.”

“Partners are important,” Patton said softly, running a hand through Roman’s dark, wavy hair. He turned and made eye contact with the heroes. “If you hurt him, I will end you.” It wasn’t a threat, but a statement of fact.

Virgil locked eyes with the villain, jerking his head at Logan. “And if you hurt _him,_ you’ll wish I’d only killed you.”

Roman chuckled, flashing a smile at Logan over Patton’s curly head. “Aww, look at then, they’re bonding!”

Logan looked up at his partner and back to Gale Force. “They’re bonding over death threats. I don’t think this is how I expected a hero-villain team-up to go.”

“It’s okay, Doc, you and me are clearly the pretty faces of our respective teams next to the brawn of our boys here.”

“Excuse you, I did not get three degrees in the time it takes most people to get one to be called just a pretty face,“ Logan said with an frown.

“Doesn’t make it any less true, though,” the Marauder replied with a wink. “Your face is pretty, you gotta accept it.”

Logan stared at the villain. “Is this flirting?”

“Do you want it to be?”

“No, I’m legitimately asking, I’m apparently unable to identify it on my own.”

Virgil and Patton stopped staring one another down in time to hear the last comment. Virgil snorted. “Doc, you have understatement down to an art.”

“Shush, you,” Logan said, blushing faintly.

“Do you have, like, a crush on him?” Roman gushed.

“Please, no-”

“Oooohhhh, he totally has a crush on him!!” Patton chimed in, bouncing in Roman’s lap.

“Reflex, I take all of this back, this was a terrible idea, I’m leaving…”

Virgil gently nudged Logan with a shoulder. “No you won’t. This is too important. And you and I are good, no matter what.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Darling, I think they might be gay,” Roman stage-whispered to Patton.

“And I think you might be annoying,” Virgil shot back. “Enough fucking around. We know your powers, you know ours. What we don’t know is anything about the bastard out here killing our city.”

Logan adjusted the goggles on top of his head. “We can tell you what we know from the Mayor. It’s not much. They clearly can cause some sort of nightmare or hallucination in others. The survivor mentioned the outline of a smile in the dust clouds.”

“Like the Cheshire Cat,” Roman murmured. “How very Carollian.” Logan started, a curious expression on his face as he looked at the taller villain.

Winds gusted around Gale Force as he lifted himself up off of his partner’s lap. “A survivor? Who saw what happened?”

“Yes, a teenage girl. She’s in the hospital.”

“Could we ask her for more detail?” Virgil mused aloud. “Get a full description of events, see if there are any little details she may have missed?”

“It’s worth a shot.”

* * *

 

To say that the hospital staff reacted oddly to seeing the until-recently most prominent villains strolling in the front door, accompanied but not restrained by some of the best-loved heroes would be putting it mildly. Reflex had to undergo a brief concussion test administered by a well-meaning emergency tech, and Doctor Vectorious had to calmly talk a doctor into putting the defibrillator back on the wall and stop brandishing it as a weapon.

Once the misunderstanding was cleared up, Virgil politely asked after their patient.

“Ah, yes. She’s conscious and stable, if still very shaken. Her family is in with her right now.”

“Can we see her?”

“Not all of you! Pick just one, and her mom stays no matter who it is.”

Virgil nodded. “We should ask who she wants in there. Who she’d be most comfortable with. She’s just a kid, after all.”

The doctor nodded. “I’ll ask. You may wait here.” She paused, looking around the waiting room with many sets of staring eyes. “On second thought, follow me.”

Patton seemed completely oblivious to their observers. Roman stared at his surroundings as they walked, sniffing the air frequently. Virgil walked closer than normal to Logan, accidentally bumping him several times as he fought the urge to shrink into the hoodie he wasn’t wearing.

The doctor showed them to a smaller, empty waiting room and left them there with a brisk nod.

“Why’s it smell so weird here?” Roman finally asked.

“Weird?”

“Like, sharp. Stinging in smell form. Kinda acrid, I guess. But also a bit like soap?”

“That’s the antiseptic,” Logan said. “Have you not been in a hospital before?”

Roman went quiet, then finally said, “I haven’t even been to a doctor’s office before. Not that I remember, anyway.”

Logan pursed his lips and Virgil was about to speak when the doctor returned.

“The patient has made her request,” she began.

“Yes?”

“...she asked for him,” the woman replied, pointing at the Crimson Marauder.

The group looked to Roman, then back at the doctor as one.

“I confirmed it with her. She specifically requested ‘the red one.’”

Roman nervously adjusted his cape and mask. “Can she speak to me now?”

“Yes, follow me.”

He stepped into the indicated door to see a middle-aged woman with plenty of silver threads in her plump braid helping the young woman on the cot drink from a pink plastic cup.  
“Um, hi, Ms. and Miss Rodrigeuz. I’m the Crimson Marauder,” he began.

The young woman sat up without her mother’s help, leaning forward eagerly. “Are you really, though?”

“...would anyone try to impersonate me?”

“I mean… I saw the group. You’re with the heroes again. Are you still the Marauder if you’re back?” she asked with a bruised smile.

“Back…?”

“You don’t remember me, do you. I was probably one of many people who thanked you, back in your Prince days.”

Roman’s eyes went wide. “Sofia? _That_ Sofia?” he asked, voice cracking. “The little princess?”

“You _do_ remember,” her mom commented softly, brushing a gentle hand through Sofia’s hair. “She kept that crown for _years._ Even when she insisted that princesses were ‘only for los niños,’ she would keep pulling it out when she thought we couldn’t see.”

Roman swallowed a lump in his throat. “I could never forget. You were the first person ever to thank me. The first civilian to treat me like a real hero.”

“Only the first civilian?”

“I- another hero did, too. Many years ago.”

Sofia tilted her head. Her bruises were shockingly colorful, and she spoke carefully around a tender jaw, but she seemed otherwise in one piece. “Why did you stop?”

“What?”

“You were _ours._ The Prince of Sycamore Heights. Why did you become a villain?”

Roman looked down. “It’s… complicated. But I thought I could do a better job for our home this way.”

“Things did get better,” her mom said. “For years, it was so much better. After you got rid of the Patrol.”

“It wasn’t just me,” Roman responded automatically.

“You and Copper Eye. I remember,” Sofia said. “I loved watching her work.”

“So did I,” Roman said quietly, swiping at the tear wriggling out of his eye. He swallowed and settled his shoulders, trying to compose himself. “Sofia, can I ask you about what you remember about this attack?”

“It’s not much,” she warned.

“Anything helps. We’re going to get whoever did this. I promise.”

Sofia looked up, meeting his eyes directly. “Don’t promise unless you mean it.”

Roman looked back steadily, and placed a hand over his heart. “I, the Crimson Marauder, formerly the Scarlet Prince, promise you, Sofia Rodriguez: we’ll get the one who hurt you and all those people, or die in the attempt.”

Sofia nodded fiercely. “Here’s what I remember.”

* * *

The Crimson Marauder sat on a red swing floating from nothing as Gale Force reclined on air beside him. They faced the heroes, who were more sensibly sitting on the edge of the roof of an office building near the middle of the city. All four contemplated the details Roman had shared in their own ways. A tiny tornado ran up and down Patton’s fingers, Roman created and vanished mini constructs, Logan’s fingers tapped so quickly they left erosion trails on the concrete, and Virgil hummed tunelessly under his breath.

“You know what seems weird to me?” Reflex said at length. “I don’t know if this means anything, but your friend seems like an extremely level-headed teenager. And yet...”

“...you gonna finish that or do you just think teenagers are dumb.”

“Oh, I don’t think they’re dumb, they just scare the living shit out of me,” Virgil said with a quirk in his smile. “No, she seems really collected, really rational, and yet she didn’t think twice before leaving safety to get to her family.”

“It’s family,” Patton said curtly. “Of course she didn’t.”

“Believe me, I understand protecting family,” Virgil replied. “But not even _trying_ to confirm? Not even when she saw others running? It seems like she was just operating off panic.”

“You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, Mr. Brendon Urie Wannabe,” Roman snarked. But he had also reached out and grabbed Patton’s hand, squeezing reassurance to his partner to counteract the dark cloud spread across his face.

“Do you think that tells us something about how the villain operates?” Doctor Vectorious asked Reflex, pushing them back on track.

“Maybe it’s more than just visual hallucinations?”

“Hm, interesting theory, but-” Logan began, when their watches began to blare with a new H.A.T.C.H. alert.

“Fuck, the harbor!” Virgil said.

“Southeast,” Logan said at the same time. He looked up at both villains. “Meet us there.”

Reflex was already soaring away, a streak of black and purple stretching through the city. A second blur joined him, black and white and blue paralleling his trajectory from the ground.

Roman squeezed Patton’s hand once more, tightly. “We’re doing this, yeah?”

“We are. We have to.”

“Okay then. Time for some thrilling heroics.”

As one, they went from sitting to moving, both riding a red hang glider that sped as quickly as the ripping wind that sprang up to carry it.

They soared over the city towards the water, following the heroes. Roman nudged Patton as they approached.

“What _is_ that?”

“Looks like a dust cloud. Someone’s being naughty.”

“Should we land?”

Patton nodded, letting go of the frame to point to roof where the heroes were braced, trying to see into the obscured area. He floated down to land softly, Roman a breath behind him. They stared at the enormous cloud of dust and debris, trying to make out what was happening underneath.

Reflex frowned. “It’s not moving.”

Doctor Vectorious nodded. “If it were a true debris cloud, it should be dissipating or growing, not just staying static. It’s obscuring something, and I can’t tell what.”

“Maybe I can help _clear_ things up,” Gale Force offered, sending winds towards the very center of the obstruction. Dust and rocks and debris blew up and away, out of the three-block radius and into the harbor.

The Crimson Marauder gasped aloud as the cloud faded. “Whatever I was expecting, that wasn’t it.”

The dust cloud had been pushed away. But a dark mass remained. It oozed through the streets, a bulbous form that dragged on corners and sidewalks but left no residue. It was mesmerizing, in an off-putting way. Colors shifted and played over its dark surface like far-off nebulae brought to earth, now an orange veil, now pink, now a green or blue haze. It absorbed light rather than giving any off, but besides the flicker of changing colors, no movement was seen.

“...I know I’m gonna regret this, but I think we should go straight into it,” Reflex offered, stepping out into the open air. “We need to know if it’s solid, and this is where the alert said the disturbance was.”

“Are all heroes dumb enough to wander into Definitely-Murderous-Glow-Clouds or is it just you?” Gale Force asked mildly.

“All hail the Glow Cloud,” Logan and Roman said at the same time, then scowled at the other for having the same thought.

“What else do you suggest then?”

Patton huffed, and paced on the edge of the roof. “...I don’t know.”

“We’ll send the strongest two first, then,” Doctor Vectorious mused. “‘Flex, you fly in with Gale Force to blow off any more debris, and to see if you can wind-funnel your way in. We’ll back you up, ready to pull you out if needed, or Marauder here can add a construct tunnel if you’re able to open it up. Is that acceptable?”

Patton frowned at what felt like condescension, at this _hero_ trying to tell them what to do. But, with resignation, he realized he didn’t have a better plan, and Valerie’s murderer could be getting away right now for all they knew. Stiffly, he nodded his assent.

Roman cupped his neck, fingers tangled in the curls at his nape. “Be careful, gingerpie” he whispered. “If you die, I’ll never forgive you.”

“Don’t worry, honeygold, I’ll be your _boo_ no matter what,” Patton murmured back with a grin. He kissed Roman firmly on the mouth, right under his mask.

“I’m too pretty to date a ghost,” Roman complained, but he was smiling all the same.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Okay, Hurricane Gay-trina, let’s not waste any more time. Can you make a wind tunnel I can fly through without getting hurt?”

Without a word, air raced past them into a clear cone that hollowed out, a tube of rushing wind that stretched from their spot towards the mass. Virgil acknowledged his villain partner with a two-fingered salute and sped down it, rocketing towards the form that continued to shift colors. He extended a clenched fist, bracing himself to collide with the edge, ready to use all his strength to bust through if possible.

Instead of hitting a hard edge, though, he just passed into it as the sun disappeared. Darkness surrounded him, the pitch black of an overcast midnight. He could suddenly hear impacts, crunching rock and shouts and screams, and froze. He couldn’t move suddenly, not without seeing around him. He might hurt those near him worse with too fast a movement or a misplaced step.

Virgil had never expected to experience relief at seeing Gale Force, but the tunnel of wind opened up the mass and brought in Patton and the setting sunlight in a joint beam. “It worked!” Virgil said. “Quick, blow away as much of this as you can. I can try to stun everyone if I need to.”

The villain didn’t pause or argue, but multiplied the cyclone until copies branched out in all directions. They punched through the dark haze in dozens of places, bringing in the scant evening light and blessedly fresh air. Some of the screams faded, and Virgil could finally see the faces of surrounding civilians as their terror faded into confusion.

Both hero and villain could see what had caused the screams. A young villain, a H.E.A.R.T.S. dropout Virgil remembered, had paused in the center of the chaos. They blinked, slowly shrinking their hands back from huge, car-sized fists to normal limbs. The villain looked around them, and down at their torn costume. It was as bloody and ripped as their hands, the bold gold and red of a ringmaster’s coat turned into something out of a horror film. The Contortionist fell heavily to their knees, still shaken.

A burst of blue fire brought attention to the other active combatant. This was a current H.E.A.R.T.S. student, not yet a full hero, and even through her mask it was clear she was terrified. Another flash of light and she popped into being closer to the newcomers.

“V- I mean, Reflex?” she asked in a tiny voice.

“It’s really me, Blynk,” he reassured her, crouching slightly to shrink the almost-foot difference in their heights.

“I- where did they go? The ones attacking me? They were… everywhere.” She balled one hand in the loose blue dress that made up her costume as the other pulled up the attached hood nervously.

“It was an illusion,” Patton explained. “This new villain, Agent Whisper. They make you see things that aren’t there.”

“I couldn’t get away,” she whispered. “No matter how many times I teleported, they were still there to catch me.”

“They’re gone,” Virgil assured her. “You’re safe.” He offered his arms, and the young hero dove into his embrace. Speaking over her head, he looked up at his villain partner. “Can you fully break this up?”

“Here comes Mister Blue Sky,” Patton said with incongruous cheer, expanding the existing funnels. Light filled more and more of their view until the full sky returned and the last of the strange substance melted into air.

A _zip_ and a _thud_ heralded the arrival of the missing hero-villain pair.

“Good work,” Logan told them both. “A small bit seemed to split off, but you cleared the area and appear to have fully disrupted any illusions.”

“They got away?” Patton asked sharply. “Which direction?” He was already started to drift into the air.

Virgil grabbed the loose tunic and tugged him down. “We can’t just chase after them!”

“Why the fuck not?”

The angry question was spat into Virgil’s face, but it was Logan and Roman who answered simultaneously, “We need to help the people here.”

The fading sunlight showed just how right they were. Craters littered the landscape around them. So did bodies. Every visible face was bruised or bloody, but luckily, most were moving as civilians picked themselves up out of the wreckage.

Logan was already confirming that emergency care was on the way as he zipped around the battlefield, assisting where he could. Roman took one look at the injured and started to conjure glowing splints and crutches.

Patton was still staring angrily at the direction Logan had indicated was  that of Agent Whisper’s escape, straining at Virgil’s hold. “Let me the fuck go,” he snapped. “I’m not here to be your goddamn hero, I’m here for _revenge.”_

“You think I don’t get that?” Virgil snapped back. “I want the bastard dead as much as you do, so don’t think for a _second_ that you have a monopoly on rage here.”

“Then what are we waiting for? We’re the strongest and those two both know it. Let’s follow this piece of shit, grind them into dust, and be fucking done with this ‘partnership.’”

Virgil’s grip slackened for a second as he looked around them, a cloud of anger on his face. But it passed, and he pulled Gale Force all the way back to earth. “We can’t just rush in. This isn’t just for revenge: it’s to stop _more_ people getting hurt. And it’s because we’re the strongest that we can’t risk blazing through, because we’ll be the reason more are hurt.”

Patton crossed his arms, glaring at the taller man. “What makes you think I care about a couple of casualties if it means I get revenge?”

“Because you’re still human,” Reflex responded. His gaze was level, understanding. “If all you wanted was their death at any cost, you wouldn’t have come to us. I’m not asking you to admit anything, but I have a feeling you know more about collateral damage than you ever wanted to know.” A nerve in Patton’s cheek jumped at that and Virgil nodded. “Like I said. Not asking you to admit anything. But I get it. I never wanted to be a hero. But then my partner convinced me that it’s not about getting recognition, it’s not about the fights. It’s about doing the best you can for as many people as you can. It’s about using these powers I never asked for to do what others can’t.”

Patton grumbled, but assented. “Fine. What can I do here, then?”

“Help me with the rubble? Drop it in the harbor if you need to.”

Reflex and Gale Force joined their partners in cleaning up the disaster zone. ‘Flex lifted enormous chunks of rock and concrete gently to free trapped limbs or to uncover more bodies. He tossed them into the air, where the wind-manipulator caught them and floated them safely to the water.

The Crimson Marauder flew into the air to check for more injured civilians, held aloft by his glowing hands. He was aware of Doctor Vectorious moving quickly somewhere below him, running up buildings and around the square to find civilians who’d been outside as well as in the surrounding apartments and offices. Was anyone limping? Anyone who needed a temporary bandage? Where was the emergency services van, shouldn’t they be here?

A huge crack of of rubble and rock shifting distracted him, and he whirled to see where the noise was coming from. By the time he registered that it was just Reflex working with Patton (aww, his love was working with one of his crushes!), he’d lost focus and his glow went out. He fell, stomach dropping as he tried to conjure something, anything, even just a mattress or a trampoline to break his fall.

A warm impact hit him as a blur originating from a nearby roof crashed into him and carried them both to a fire escape on the other side of the narrow street. The blur resolved back into Doctor Vectorious, and he found himself being held in the shorter man’s arms.

The speedster stared for a moment, then looked away with a slight pink tinge to his pale cheeks. “You’re, um,” he said, jerking his head towards him without looking back. “Uncovered.”

Roman started, feeling his face. The impact had knocked off his mask, and the hero was pointedly looking away to preserve his identity.

Or, perhaps, Logan was looking away because his internal monologue had been hijacked by the phrase, _“Oh fuck, he’s hot.”_

Roman quickly conjured a replacement mask and slid out of Logan’s hold to stand on his own again. The hero remained with his gaze averted until a siren’s blare drew close, announcing the arrival of the emergency crew.

“Thank fuck,” Roman sighed, and flew himself down to greet them. He explained quickly that his constructs needed to be replaced now so that they wouldn’t fade if they got too far away. He was already grateful that they’d be detached from him long enough that they hadn’t faded when he momentarily lost focus, and was eager to be able to draw back his energies further.

Virgil, Logan, and Patton ferried the injured from ruins of the street to the vans, including both the young hero and villain to the separate supers truck. Finally, they were able to move out. The heroes had acquired a better-functioning scanner for the villains, one that could call them specifically when they were needed, and allowed the villains to call them securely if they should so choose. About to part, Reflex paused, and offered Gale Force a handshake. Warily, the villain accepted, and the Marauder did too, in turn. Doctor Vectorious was more hesitant, but copied his partner.

Back in Logan’s apartment, the shorter man washed his face thoroughly, still shivering slightly at the remembrance of so many hurt. “How many casualties was it, all told?”

“Ten. All civilians. Both The Contortionist and Blynk are on bed rest, but they’ll recover. Total injuries are at about twenty-five people, but the techs said at least ten additional civilians avoided worse injuries that could have lead to critical conditions thanks to our timing as a group.”

Logan sighed. “I know I should be grateful that we were able to help so many, proportionally, but…”

“I know.”

“This villain is no joke, Virge. Thirty-five deaths and it hasn’t yet been two days.”

“We’ll get them, Lo. I promise.”

Logan looked up. Virgil was back in civilian clothes that he left here in his partner’s apartment, one of his trusty black hoodies unzipped over a plain tee and sweatpants. Logan had changed back into his version of casual: a button-up not fully buttoned, no tie, and jeans.

“Speaking of promises…” he began. He ran a hand through already-mussed hair. “I was cut off, yesterday. I know that there are bigger, more pressing issues now but I still want to finish the thought I was trying to express.”

“Lo, it’s okay if you don’t return the sentiment, you know that, right? I’ll still love you as a friend no matter what.”

Logan sat next to Virgil on the couch. “I appreciate that, Vee, but that’s not where I was going.”

“Oh?” Virgil asked, smiling hopefully.

“I apologize for my obliviousness, Virgil, and for how long it took me to put this together, but I believe I feel the same type of romantic sentiment towards you as you’ve expressed that you feel towards me.” Logan reached out a tentative hand to take Virgil’s in his.

“You’re sounding like a textbook again, Lo,” Virgil teased, squeezing Logan’s hand.

“Sorry, I just-”

“I’m not complaining, not in the slightest. It’s part of you, ya know? It’s part of the charm.” He shifted over on the couch until their thighs were touching, and, receiving a nod of approval, draped an arm around his partner’s shoulders. “I love you, Logan.”

Logan blushed deep. “I love you as well, Virgil.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please do.”

Lips met in tentative sweetness and softness, neither pushing or needing to. This was _them,_ comfort and companionship that felt as natural as breathing. And at this particular moment, breathing was the more difficult option of the two.

At long last, Logan broke off and looked up into Virgil’s dark eyes. “Are we… dating? It seems like an odd term, or at the very least an odd distinction.”

“I mean. We’re already _partners,”_ Virgil said with a shrug and a grin.

“Oh no, don’t you start on puns too, now. There’s already Dad _and_ Gale Force, I refuse to take any more of this.”

“Okay, okay,” Virgil said, laughing. “I’ll have mercy. Because I love you.” He most definitely did not add in the phrase because it was a relief to say it out loud after so many years of thinking it. He would definitely not continue to sprinkle it in liberally after seeing Logan’s pink-cheeked reaction to hearing it.

“I must say, I was quite impressed by the Marauder today. I thought he’d entirely turned his back on heroing when he realigned, but it appears he really is a hero at heart. Or, at the very least, a super who cares about the well-being of civilians over his personal gain.”

“Almost like people can have a change of heart without a change of personality,” Virgil commented mildly.

“He’s still a villain, though,” Logan added sharply. “And don’t think I didn’t see Gale Force trying to run off before you talked him down.”

Virgil sighed, letting his arm fall off Logan’s shoulders. “He’s not all bad, Lo. He’s just an angry human with far too many scars that haven’t come _close_ to healing yet.”

“So are you. And yet you’re still a hero.”

“But I’ve had you, for nine years. He only has whats-his-name. Roman. Princey. Who’s just as burned, if not quite so angry.” Virgil’s voice was soft.

Logan frowned. “Why make excuses for them?”

“Because it’s not hard for me to picture a different world where I went that direction instead, Lo. I… I could picture myself neutral, hiding from my powers. Or a villain, angry at the city for not finding me sooner. Gale Force understands that. The _fury._ And besides that… I like them. For all that they’re frustrating and have evil tendencies and all the public displays of affection.”

An eyebrow raised above glasses frames. “You like them?”

“I mean, you know I’ve been flirting with Princey during fights. It’s not _just_ because I’m a walking stereotype of a snarky hero. And the other one, Patton, he’s not bad-looking either.”

“Ah, I see,” Logan said quietly.

"This doesn’t affect how I feel about you, Lo, not in any way,” Virgil rushed to clarify. “It could never. It’ll always be you, no matter if I pursue these other feelings or not.”

Logan relaxed slightly. “I don’t know that I feel similarly, or even _could,_ not when I only realized how I felt about you through a strong platonic bond over literal years.”

“That’s more than okay. You mean the most to me. If you’d rather I keep quiet about these feelings, just let them fade…”

“No, that’s unnecessary. I am not opposed to you, ah, pursuing them, just keep me informed. I do understand the… attraction.” Logan blushed lightly, but coughed and continued. “And as long as you’re safe. They’re still villains, Vee. We can’t _trust_ them, not past taking down Agent Whisper.”

“You may be right. You usually are. But, I don’t know, man. I feel like maybe we can, this time.”

Logan raised an eyebrow again. “Virgil the cynic, wanting to trust people?”

“Oh look, it’s the pot, calling the kettle black,” Virgil replied, shoving Logan lightly in the shoulder.

“Guilty as charged.”

“By the way, can I borrow your phone charger, I wanna call Mom and Mama today, and the sibs if they’re home.”

“Why do you think I bought an extra-long purple cord?”

* * *

**D.R.E.A.M. Index #337475  
**Classification: A.3.i [Tertiary Tier Hero, Legacy]  
Name: Blynk  
Status: INACTIVE  
/////////Reason: Injury  
Civilian Name: [CLEARANCE: TOP SECRET] McKenzie Bleu  
Affiliation: Hero  
_/////////_ _H.A.T.C.H. Status: Temporarily Inactive  
_Partners/Sidekicks: N/A  
Primary Foes: N/A  
Powers: Short-Range Teleportation; Enhanced Durability;  
/////////Range approximately 100 yds; does not need to see destination, but does need to focus on it  
Costume: Black leggings with lace up ballet slippers; blue dress with white stripe on the skirt with attached hood  
Age: 17  
Height: 5’4  
Pronouns: She/Her  
_H.E.A.R.T.S. Class: Enrolled, anticipated ‘19_  
Note: Daughter of DI#265353; Not yet cleared for independent hero missions - involvement in IR 18-Z-0015 unintentional and due to proximity alone

 

**D.R.E.A.M. Index #337432  
**Classification: Z.3.iv [Tertiary Tier Villain, Unknown]  
Name: The Contortionist  
Status: INACTIVE  
/////////Reason: Incarceration, Injury  
Civilian Name: [CLEARANCE: CONFIDENTIAL] Tai Kim  
Affiliation: Villain  
Partners/Sidekicks: N/A  
Primary Foes: N/A  
Powers: Body Plasticity - Medium Spectrum;  
/////////Can alter density and length of body parts; cannot fully transform into other shapes  
Costume: Bodysuit in black, red, and gold; designed to look like a tailcoat with gold braiding;  
/////////Strongly reminiscent of a ringmaster outfit, but able to stretch with them  
Age: 19  
Height: 5’10  
Pronouns: They/Them  
_H.E.A.R.T.S. Class: Dropout_  
Note: Believed to have left the city until involvement in IR 18-Z-0015

* * *

 

 They were woken early the next morning by yet another H.A.T.C.H. alert. Virgil gave a single breath to regret his poor, poor sleep schedule before changing into his costume.

Mayor and S.E.A.M. Stokes weren’t sure of the exact nature of the disturbance, but they knew it involved supers. In this uncertain climate, that meant sending their best, just to be prepared. At Virgil’s urging, Logan had conceded to alert their villain partners as well.

“What’s the harm in being ready, L?”

“They’re collectively responsible for over fifteen felonies.”

“...yeah, but they’re on our side now.”

Logan fixed his partner with a look.

“I know, I know. We can’t trust them entirely. But you trust me, right?”

Logan softened. “Of course I do. I trust you with my life.”

Virgil paused, blushing slightly. “I… god, I love you, Lo.”

“I love you as well.”

Standing by the window, in full costume, seconds before rushing to whatever crime scene had alerted them today, Virgil stole a moment to pull his partner in close and kiss him softly.

They parted, both pink-faced. “I’ve just got a hunch, Lo. I think we’ll need them, or at least not regret bringing them along. And I swear, I’ll protect you if they try anything.”

And thus, as they surveyed the scene from the top of a nearby building, the villains arrived as well.

“I don’t see Agent Piss-per anywhere,” Gale Force said with a frown.

“We haven’t either,” Logan replied evenly. “But they’ve been targeting super fights so far. It’s only logical to conclude that any fight between persons with enhanced abilities will continue to be targets for them.”

“I’m not participating in your self-righteous state-sanctioned vigilantism,” the Marauder said, lounging against the wall. “Who’s even fighting?”

“They’re a recurring duo. They either partner up or are on opposite sides, it depends on which muse is controlling her,” Virgil explained, gesturing to the dark-clad figure visible from above. Many brilliant lights surrounded her, with more seeming to sprout from the galaxy print on her suit. Tiny constellations flew towards her opponent and swirled around the other’s massive, cascading skirts. With Gale Force’s help, they could all hear the conversation on the wind - a steady stream of chat and compliments, even as star constructs disrupted the princess-figure’s attempts to infiltrate the nearby museum.

“Who’s this?”

“Today? Nebula. You may also know her as Ghost. But she’s not nearly as active as some I could name,” Logan explained, glancing side-eyed at where Gale Force seemed to be taking notes.

“Yes, but what about the _aesthetic_ one,” the Marauder asked with a tone bordering on reverence.

Virgil smirked. “She’s known as Lovely Darling. A mesmerizer with a strong affinity for princesses. So you know, pretty familiar, except more people are infatuated with her than just herself.”

Roman pouted at the tall hero and opened his mouth to object when the air suddenly shifted and four sets of eyes snapped to the scene below.

A dark dust cloud was rising, despite the complete lack of debris or destruction from the existing fight. Looking for the details, Virgil saw how the ‘dust’ cloud dragged and stuck on corners as it neared both supers.

“Heads up!” Gale Force shouted, and the air itself carried his voice, surprising them both as they noticed the impending danger. Logan was there a breath later, grabbing them both and pulling them away before rejoining the group in a blur.

“Go in all at once?” Virgil asked.

“On y va,” Roman said firmly, and they moved forward as one. The minute they passed into the cloudlike mass, Roman had the strangest sense of someone muttering, _Oh, this should be fun._

And then the world went grey. His limbs went heavy and his heart turned to lead. A sluggishness settled over his entire body as he crumpled to his knees. He couldn’t muster the energy to do anything but struggle to stay upright, and he watched his constructs melt away in a blink of an eye. Of course he couldn’t create anything. He was useless. Everyone knew he was the weakest of their group. No raw power like Reflex, no elemental power like Patton, no brilliant strategy like the Doctor. He just had his little red toys. And now, he didn’t even have those.

It was fitting, wasn’t it? Let everyone see how worthless he was, whether a hero or a villain. He could die here, in this cloud, and the world would not note his passing nor feel his loss. A tear coursed down his cheek and fell onto his hands as he struggle to just barely brace himself. All he was good for was tears. How had anyone been fooled enough to believe anything else? Had they even been fooled? Or had they just been humoring him, pretending that he had something to offer. Seeing his obvious fragility and flattering him the way you compliment a child’s terrible scribbles. Who could ever truly believe in him? His arms trembled, and he collapsed fully, prone upon the ground, awash in despair and listlessness.

Logan was running as he passed into the cloud. He was surprised to see it was only a hair’s width as he passed through, coming into practically the same daylit scene on the other side. He kept running as he looked for the villain. Ro- the Marauder was flying on his right, with Virgil and Gale Force on his left. Was that Agent Whisper up there? The dark, humanoid shape was further back than he’d guessed. He pushed himself to speed up, to get there faster before the villain could escape again. He was reaching a rate of one hundred miles per hour - why weren’t they getting closer? His muscles felt odd, not the normal level of burn for this speed, but the wind was rushing through his hair and he could see the world flashing by through his goggles. Perhaps his workout routine was finally helping him reach new speeds. He pushed harder, blurring into five hundred miles per hour, fighting to reach the villain. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his villain partners had fallen behind him, but Virgil was still there on his left. But Agent Whisper was still so far away. He ran faster, nearing his top speed. He was a blur, a bullet streaking towards its target, but he could still see and feel his whole body. Finally, the dark antagonist was near, and he went to slow down to grab them, incapacitate them, bring them to justice.

But he couldn’t stop. His legs wouldn’t slow, his arms still pumping in rhythm to keep running. He was still moving, still in the nimbus of speed that almost no one could see. He looked frantically around only to see that he’d left Virgil far behind. He tried to turn, but couldn’t. He was just running, running, through the city, past the city, over hills and mountains and water and more mountains and _he couldn’t stop_. How would he get home? How would he live? How would he see Mom and Dad again, how would he be there for Jem and Bea? How would he be with Virgil, now that they finally were? He’d left him back there, surrounded by villains. He’d left him all alone, the one thing he’d promised would never happen back when they’d first met. How would time pass while he was stuck in this endless speed? Would he even feel it? Would he just run until his body gave out from the stress or exhaustion?

“Please!” he tried to yell. “Please, get me out!”

But his words were whipped away by the rush of air and movement all around him. He was trapped.

Virgil was prepared for his first step into the cloud, for the light to cut out and the fog to surround him. He felt slightly more of the texture this time, a weird film that clung to his skin. He strode in, scanning for the villain, trusting his hearing more than his sight, which extended only about three feet in any direction. He turned almost instinctively to look for Logan at his right, to check if the speedster had dashed in. He saw his partner but… Logan was frozen, eyes jumping and flitting around. His muscles twitched, but he seemed glued to the spot. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. Past him, a red-and-black form lay curled in a fetal position, unmoving.

Virgil reached his partner and love in a single step, reaching out for his shoulder. The impact caused Logan’s eyes to snap open as he cried out in pain. Virgil immediately pulled his hand back, only to see bones protruding from Logan’s arm from how strong his touch had been.

“Fuck, Lo, I didn’t mean to, I’m so sorry-”

“You always are,” Logan snapped back, blood seeping down his shoulder. “Sorry will mean nothing when you kill someone. They won’t care that you didn’t mean it!”

Tears sprang from Virgil’s eyes. He looked down to see the concrete was crumbling where his foot had touched the ground. “Please, Lo, let me help-”

“Don’t touch me!” his friend screamed, terror in his eyes. “Stay back!”

Virgil swallowed hard and obeyed, stepping back, but craters formed with each step. He backed into _something_ and whirled to see a huge wall sway and fall, crushing those who’d been unlucky enough to be sitting behind it.

“Stop it!” Logan yelled, and his terror had shifted to hatred. “You ruin everything you touch!”

“I don’t-”

“Just hide away, Virgil. Just leave this city, leave your family, hide away where you won’t hurt anyone anymore. You’re a threat to everyone around you, so just go!”

Tears coursed down Virgil’s cheeks. “Lo, please-”

“You are and always have been nothing more than a ticking time bomb, Virgil. Didn’t Sandry teach you that?”

The tall hero froze. Logan no longer sounded like himself. Virgil knew his dearest friend would never mention _that,_ no matter his anger. No one would - except Virgil himself. Logan’s words were Virgil’s own, the ones he directed against himself on all the dark days. The world crumbling at his touch, inadvertent pain against the one he loved? This was his own private nightmare made real. He took a deep breath, in for four counts. Hold for seven. Out for eight.

“I am not a monster,” he whispered to himself. “I have enhanced abilities. I use them to do the best I can to help others. I pull my punches, I take care to not use too much force. I don’t hurt my loved ones. I am a hero because I try to be one, and I succeed at an above-average rate.”

Slowly, the craters fixed themselves, and the wall re-erected itself. The blood and bones vanished off Logan’s arm, and he was now as he had been, frozen, looking with distress off into nothing as his eyes shifted rapidly. Virgil reached out slowly, gently, to brush his shoulder with a feather-light touch. His partner didn’t respond, but neither did he bruise.

Virgil turned, hearing footsteps. He kept breathing evenly, repeating his mantras to himself, and stepped towards the sound of movement. It was Gale Force, Patton, walking evenly through the mist without hesitation.

Patton stepped through the border of light to dark as easy as breathing. It took him almost ten steps before he realized he no longer heard the heroes and his partner on his right. He turned to see them all paralyzed. Roman’s beautiful, radiant red fire had faded. Patton had been around for enough dark days to recognize the despair etched into his love’s face. He almost ran to him when he saw that the Doctor was frozen too, not on his knees but standing. Doctor Vectorious, who was intriguing and infuriating and condescending and _so very pretty_ seemed to shiver and jerk with some internal movement. Even Reflex had paused, looking confused and distressed. His love and his... partners. Not friends. They were coworkers, if that. Nothing more. What had put them in such a state?

He felt a slight weight on his chest. An impression of tears, of bricks and water and twisted metal. He turned, and walked towards the center of the cloud, seeking Agent Whisper. He was sure he was getting closer, he could feel it. And with every step he saw flashes of the past. A dusty courtyard, the Hundredth-of-an-Acre Wood. A lanky child carrying two giggling girls on his back. Phantom hands smacked his and ran away laughing in a game of tag. Two women smiled down at him, hands linked.

Now they shifted. Bruises and blood appeared, torsos were covered in brick. Limbs became maimed and mangled beyond recognition. And voices drifted out of mouths that couldn’t possibly be producing them.

“You should have saved us.”

“Why were _you_ the only one to survive?”

_“You let me die.”_

Patton lifted a hand casually to push back the clouds and give himself more visibility. Finally, a form in the mist. It seemed to eat the light around it, a human-shaped hole cut out against reality, a black pit that had no eyes to stare at him.

_“How?”_ a voice asked, shrieking in impossibly high and low octaves at once. It was an eagle’s cry and an earthquake’s rumble, unnatural and natural at once. Patton turned to it, and smiled brightly.

“Oh, kiddo, were you trying to make us feel bad? Here’s a fun little factoid for you!” He grunted with effort as he conjured a cone of air, tightly wound and pointed away from his team. His face fell into a dark mask as he sent the tornado hurtling towards the dark form opposing them. “I’ve felt worse.”

The form dodged easily, but backed up. Reflex appeared at Patton’s side, scowling and tensed to attack. The mist started to lift, helped along by Patton’s winds.

Both hero and villain heard a sound that might have been the crack of rock and might have been a swear. Clouds suddenly rushed past them, flowing from their backs towards Agent Whisper. They swirled around them and starting to soar into the air, a column of dark clouds even as the last traces faded from the square. Reflex shot off from the ground, ready to give chase, but in a breath the clouds were gone and out of sight.

“Fuck,” he said, coming back to land. “That was _rough._ How were you so unaffected?”

“It’s just ghosts,” Patton replied with a shrug. “I’m always surrounded by ghosts. I’m more worried about our partners.”

Reflex nodded, and they both flew over to where Roman and the Doctor were recovering. Patton was immediately kneeling at Roman’s side, rubbing a warm, grounding hand on his lower back.

“I’m here, love,” he whispered. “The dark is gone, you’re safe, and wonderful, and deserving of all the love I could possibly give you and at least twice as much on top of that.”

Roman stirred, slowly uncurling out of the fetal position. “Sunshine?” he asked raspily. “That’s really you?”

“It’s me, my ruby. I’m here. I love you. You deserve that love.”

Roman moved slowly to sitting up, shuddering. Patton continued to rub small, comforting circles on his lower back, the other hand coming up to run through Roman’s silky, dark hair.

“How did it come on so suddenly, Pat?”

“Agent Whisper, sweetness. I guess that’s what the illusions are - a blast of bad emotions, and our brains fill in the rest.”

Roman shivered and nodded. “Makes sense. And I’m already starting to feel better. Thank you, honeybunch. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Virgil half-listened to the villains’ conversation but his main focus was on Logan. He gently touched his arm, still flinching at the idea of accidentally hurting him. But the speedster’s eyes had finally gone back to normal, focusing on Virgil’s face instead of cycling rapidly.

“Vee?” he asked, voice barely audible. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Is this real?”

“Yes, L, it’s real,” Virgil murmured back.

“Can I-” words seemed to fail him, but he lifted his arms enough for Virgil to understand him.

“Of course,” he said, smiling as he wrapped his arms around his friend and partner. Logan hugged back tightly, burying his face in Virgil’s muscled shoulders to avoid knowing if there were tears on his face or not. Virgil hugged tighter, lifting Logan fully into the air and surprising a laugh out of the shorter man.

“Hey! I’m not a child!” he complained, grinning.

“But you are my babe,” Virgil responded, teasing. “My tiny boyfriend.”

Logan blushed a deep red at that. “Oh, yes, I suppose I am.”

“That’s gay,” Roman drawled, standing with Patton’s help. “Dear, look at the heroes, they’re gay.”

“Heroes? More like _queeroes!”_

Logan’s blush didn’t fade as he glared over. “That was terrible.”

“Is that why you’re laughing internally?” Virgil asked blandly, to Logan’s indignation.

“Hey, don’t out me in front of them!”

“Oh horror of horrors, the nerd might actually have a sense of humor,” Roman said, draping a hand dramatically over his forehead. Color had returned to his golden cheeks, and his eyes were practically crackling with rich hazel energy.

“I’m glad you’re both feeling better,” Virgil said, putting Logan back on his feet. “Even if this Whisper fuck got away again.”

“We know what they’re capable of, now,” Logan said. “We can prepare for next time. Or at least brace ourselves for it.”

Patton nodded. “‘Flex and I are proof it can be overcome. So there’s hope for you two as well.”

“Go home and get some rest, gather your emotional strength,” Virgil advised, slipping his hands into Logan’s grip. “I’ve got a feeling we’ll be called again much sooner than we’d like.”

The villains nodded and flew off together, Roman rocketing ahead of Patton.

“Ladybug, slow down,” Patton complained. “You’re going too fast for me!”

“You’re going too slow!” Roman cried happily, looping in circles high and low. “God, I can’t believe how much better I feel now that we’re away from that creep!” He laughed and created a glowing red surfboard. He stood on it and balanced with exaggerated outspread hands, conjuring a huge red wave that crashed over Patton as he flew through the air still. He giggled, and the wave crashed into an explosion of butterflies and ruby wings sprouted from his back.

“Ro, come on, let’s go home,” Patton pleaded. “We can bring the butterflies if you want.”

“Butterflies are old news,” Roman replied, snapping his fingers. The forms around him melted into a huge dragon that carried him on its back as it blew sparkling fire.

“Roro, please!”

“No, not a dragon. A witch!” Roman cried, unhearing. “No, both!” Crackles of energy sparked as the dragon shifted and twisted into a dragon-witch complete with crystalline hat.

Patton sighed. The emotional manipulation had triggered a manic phase, and there was no reasoning with Ro when he was in mania’s throes. He turned in mid-air and flew to their home alone, trusting that his love would come find him when he’d calmed.

Roman flew, creating and destroying and creating anew until the sun started to fade. When the light in the sky began to match the red light of his constructs, he looked up at the clouds and thought of Patton. His love, his salvation, his partner in crime. Literally. Not that they’d been caught more than the one time.

He flew lower, just above the rooftops, finally traveling at normal speeds once more. Just as the forced low had been brief, his uncontrollable high was resolving faster than normal, too. He sheepishly contemplated the apologies he would need to make to his partner for worrying him and leaving him behind when he’d soared into the sky.

He floated down to earth to walk the last few blocks home. He stepped off into a dark alley to change back into civilian clothes.

If only he’d looked a bit harder at the shadows.

* * *

 

**D.R.E.A.M. Index #337403  
**Classification: M.1.ii [Primary Tier Neutral, Acquired Powers]  
Name: Ghost/Nebula  
Status: ACTIVE  
Civilian Name: [CLEARANCE: CONFIDENTIAL] Lulu Ador  
Affiliation: Neutral  
_/////////_ _H.A.T.C.H. Status: Blackout Only  
_Partners/Sidekicks: #337471; #337402  
Primary Foes: #337402  
Powers: Shadow Teleportation; Psionic Construction [Star Sprites]  
/////////As Ghost, can travel through any shadow to any other; As Nebula, can summon star-sprites who are directed by her thoughts  
Costume: Tailored suit in a galaxy print and bow tie with a matching mask  
Age: 27  
Height: 5’7  
Pronouns: She/Her  
_H.E.A.R.T.S. Class ‘10_  
Note: Valedictorian of her class, on similar caliber to DI#337255 - Doctor Vectorious. Ghost appears to be almost like possession, while Nebula is the 'true' form. When as Nebula, she is a hero, albeit one frustrated with the overly-physical nature of typical heroing due to her fibro. Classified as neutral because any given day she may be one or the other

 

**D.R.E.A.M. Index #337402  
**Classification: Z.2.i [Secondary Tier Villain, Legacy]  
Name: Lovely Darling  
Status: ACTIVE  
Civilian Name: [CLEARANCE: CONFIDENTIAL] Danielle Disney  
Affiliation: Villain  
Partners/Sidekicks: #337403  
Primary Foes: #337403  
Powers: Mesmerizing; Power of Suggestion; Forced Infatuation  
/////////Anyone within a radius of approximately 10 yards is susceptible; focus on a particular person makes it more compelling and longer-lasting  
Costume: Purple and pink ballgown with a hoop skirt; heart-shaped mask  
Age: 26  
Height: 5’7  
Pronouns: She/Her  
_H.E.A.R.T.S. Class ‘11_  
Note: Teams up with DI#337403 - Ghost/Nebula and feuds with her in equal measure, depending on how much her current scheme might affect others

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spot the Steven Universe reference!  
> There's also a Firefly quote in there. Partly an homage to one of the other possible names for this fic as a whole, ‘Big Damn Heroes’
> 
> (Fanfic writing, aka, finding ways to sneak in references to other fandoms and also inserting your friends in as background characters <3)


	9. Dark Side of Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: Nightmares, hospitals, comas, self-hatred, discussion of the possibility of major character death, lashing out, injury of a sibling (past), 

 

Fire. All was fire. Bricks and mortar fell around him, debris scattered in every direction. 

The building was collapsing, but he walked through untouched. He heard yells, screams, and terrible silences punctuated by the churn and roar of the inferno surrounding him. Crashes rang out, and the flame was replaced by clouds of dust. The grey mass swirled in close, a claustrophobic column surrounding him. One by one, faces began to appear, profiles carved in debris that stared at him as he moved through the wreckage. He wanted to stop, but knew he didn’t have time. He needed to get to the center.

Voices drifted around him, echoing off fallen, shattered walls.

“Save me!”

“Don’t leave us!”

“Why aren’t you helping?”

He began to run, his destination near. The dust suddenly fell to the ground, the devastation no longer obscured or hidden as he stumbled over piles of what he told himself were just stone and bricks, nothing more. He neared the center, the pull that had urged him on easing at last. 

A face in the wreckage. A hand, bruised, reaching out to him. A clear voice, speaking through vocal chords that should have been scratched and rough.

“You let me die.”

Patton awoke in darkness. Once, these nightmares had left him breathless and gasping through choked sobs. Once, he’d suffered from insomnia from the mere thought of encountering those images once again. But he’d since learned he only dreamed once a night. He shifted position, trying to find a comfortable spot in his blankets to fall back asleep. 

He gazed up into the night sky. It was late enough tonight and their home far away enough from downtown that he could even see a star or two, along with the brighter planets. The white-and-red lights of a plane blinked silently across the sky, too far away to hear. 

Patton took a deep breath, absorbing the night sounds and sights. It seemed all so vivid tonight, more than most. When had he last seen the stars look like this? 

When was the last time he had seen the stars at all?

Patton sat up suddenly, pushing his blanket off. He was on the hard ground itself, only stolen pillows and blankets where his bed normally lay. The concrete around him was littered with food in a sad heap, knick-knacks in haphazard piles, and the few electronics they owned. Their home was gone, vanished into air.

Patton grabbed his costume from where the foot of his bed should have been, and dug out the scanner from a small pile of belongings. There was only one thing this could mean. And only two people he could think of that could offer any real help.

**~~~~~~**

Virgil was very, _very_ tired of being jolted awake by the H.A.T.C.H. beacon. Particularly because he was a light sleeper and set his alarm accordingly at a reasonable volume. Logan, who was blinking but barely awake, could sleep through marching bands (and in fact had once back in school, in an incident involving a bet, the library, and a very well-executed surprise party). The nerd’s blaring alarm had Virgil’s heart racing from the split second it had started, and he woke up properly when his face made contact with the hard floor of Logan’s apartment. 

“Lo, get up!” he snapped.

“Five more minutes,” his partner muttered sleepily.

“I’m drinking all the coffee,” Virgil threatened.

An arm shot out of the messed-up sheets, levering the short form up to sitting. “How _dare-”_

“Good, you’re up,” Virgil called from the closet, tossing Logan’s costume at his head. “It’s HATCH, so let’s get-” He stopped mid-sentence as he looked at his watch. “It’s- the villains calling, actually.”

Logan grabbed his goggles from the bedside table, suddenly much more alert. “That doesn’t bode well.”

“Let’s go.”

They’d barely made it out of the fire escape when the painfully-rushing air around them made it clear that Gale Force was approaching. The villain’s costume was wrinkled and askew, his red curls unevenly fluffy and matted around his head as he landed unceremoniously right between them.

“They got him. They got Ro,” he gasped out, eyes flashing.

“The Marauder? Who’s got him? How do you know?” Logan asked. 

“Our home is gone. It’s his construct. His oldest one. Whatever happened, it’s bad, and I’m going to kill whatever piece of shit did this the minute you help me find them,” Patton snapped.

Virgil scowled. “If they killed him, I’ll help you do it.”

“No killing,” Logan interjected disapprovingly. He met the gazes of the two supers and amended, “Not yet. Let’s try to find the Marau- let’s find Roman first. When did they get him?”

Patton frowned, resenting the delay, and opened his mouth to snap at the speedster. Virgil caught his eye and jerked his head lightly. The air manipulator sighed and relented. “He was in a frenzy, flying off into the clouds, so I went home by myself and woke up to realize the house was gone. But it was there when I fell asleep so whatever happened was after dark.”

“A frenzy - was it a manic phase?” Logan said.

“Probably. He has highs and lows, but they don’t normally come on or fade this fast. But that means I have no idea when he would have come down again.”

“And the house missing - this has never happened before?” Virgil asked, his forehead knitting together in worry.

“Never. He’s been knocked out in fights or dead asleep for days at a time an it’s never wavered. Once his constructs are around long enough, they stay that way.”

“So this means that he’s…” Logan began, then stopped himself. “This means he needs our help. Let’s split up to search faster. Gale Force, you know your neighborhood best. Search all your hiding spots and meeting places, sticking to Sycamore Heights and southwest. Reflex, you take northwest. I’ll search the east. We’ll meet back at the statue in forty-five minutes if we don’t find anything, and send a message if we do. Gale, take this, for convenience.” He offered an extra HATCH band. Patton’s face was unreadable as he accepted it and strapped it to his wrist. 

“We’ll find him,” Virgil said softly, and squeezed Patton’s shoulder firmly. Then he was off, soaring into the air.

“Forty-five minutes to rendezvous, or send us a ping,” Logan repeated, then he was off too, running to search half the city for a man he’d helped arrest just four days prior after fighting for weeks on end. 

The small man was truly a blur today, zipping through the streets, noting oddities and things out of place. He looked for broken entrances, or remnants of crimson light, or anything indicating super activity. The civilians throughout the city seemed to be clips from a movie, slowed to a crawl. It was a strange pantomime of daily life in slow-motion, one that Logan hardly noticed as he ducked in and out of streets. 

_Zip._

He was in at the harbor, checking around the docks as seagulls moved like uncertain marionnettes through the air above him. A toddler, skipping along with her dad, would have run straight into him had she been moving at full speed. 

_Whoosh._

He was near the University, checking the labs, taking only a moment to watch his dad move glacially around his instruments. _Ooh, is that two different methods of single-cell RNA sequencing being done in tandem? I wonder if he’s getting different results from PCR and IVT,_ he thought, intrigued, before pulling himself back to task. Roman was still missing. He could indulge in science later.

_Fwip._

He was in a small park in the financial district, looking in the gazebo and bushes as he dodged around a dog-walker out with six charges whose floppy ears and tongues were caught in mid-bounce.

_Zip._

He was running down streets, checking in and out of alleys and dumpsters. His adrenaline was pumping, far more than normal for this amount of exercise. He felt like he was about to strike a blow against a villain, or dodge an attack. He paused for just a moment, to catch his breath and let himself feel the normal progression of time. Leaning against a smokestack on a roof, his fingers started to tap unconsciously to the beat of the pulsing thoughts in his brain. 

_Where is he?_

_Is he okay?_

_Will we find him?_

_What do we do if we don’t?_

Suddenly, his phone buzzed, and he picked up to Virgil’s low, familiar voice.

“Lo, I found him.”

“Where?”

“Sugarland.”

“Is he…?”

“He’s alive.”

Logan deflated, tension he hadn’t even realized he was carrying melting away, muscles loosening, the tide of thoughts receding back to their normal surf. 

“What happened to him?”

“I don’t know, Lo. He’s… unconscious. Pat- Gale Force and I just got him to the hospital. He just went inside with Roman while I called you.”

Logan straightened, adjusting his goggles. “Roman is in a coma?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be there in a second, Vee.”

And he was. Blurring through the city, Logan arrived at Virgil’s side in a moment. The tall man was still hanging up his phone and putting it in his pocket when Logan wrapped his arms around his partner’s waist and squeezed tight.

“Are you alright?”

“I have to be.”

“But are you?” Logan asked seriously. Virgil was about to respond, but paused, and took a deep breath. 

“I’ll feel better once we talk to the doctors.”

“Let’s go then. I’ll follow you. And we should probably change out of our costumes.”

Virgil nodded. Both heroes stepped around in the alley and changed into civilian wear. Virgil walked back into the direct sun, firmly ensconced back in his familiar hoodie, and took another stabilizing breath. “I’ll be okay, Lo.”

“I’ll be here for you even if you’re not, Vee. I love you.”

Virgil turned and cupped Logan’s face with one hand. He smiled into his partner’s eyes, affection and gratitude mixing with his palpable nervousness. Then he turned and walked through the hospital doors, still walking like Reflex in his intensity and speed. Logan paused and typed out a quick message on his phone before following.

**~~~~~~**

Virgil glanced at his phone, tapped his watch, and turned sharply towards the elevator bay. He strode through the halls, barely glancing at the signs, only checking his surroundings. Elevator. Button. Doors close. Wait. Doors open. Walk out. Left. Down two intersections. Right. Down to the windows. Turn.

He paused at the ward door until he saw movement beyond the door, familiar ginger curls pulling a second chair over to the bed. He knocked, gently, and Patton looked up and nodded.

He felt Patton’s eyes on him as he entered. His cheeks flared with heat. Of course - the villain had never seen him without his mask. Even though he knew he was far more covered in his long sleeves and loose jeans, he suddenly felt indecently exposed. 

He cleared his throat. “Have the doctors seen him yet?”

Patton, dressed down in a polo and a cardigan, nodded. “They just went back to consult.”

“Has he …?”

“No,” the ginger man responded, eyes swiveling back to the man lying motionless beside him. 

Virgil sat in the extra chair carefully. He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath until he saw Roman’s chest rise and fall and felt his own respond in imitation. The villain appeared to be sleeping, except for a certain stiffness in his posture. That, and the lack of response to even Patton’s desperate shaking when Virgil had called him to the alley where he’d found the unconscious man. The sterile sheets, bluish-grey and stiff, were a stark contrast to Roman’s tan skin, but only managed to make him look washed out and fragile. Virgil couldn’t help but realize he also hadn’t seen the construct-maker unmasked before, either. His unobscured handsomeness was no surprise, and certainly not one of Virgil’s current priorities. Especially not when the mask had been replaced with a neck brace and cannula.

The doctor came in with Logan in tow, and Virgil was on his feet immediately.

“Hello, good morning, I’m his… the one who found him.”

The doctor nodded. “Good morning, I’m Dr. Ahmad. I’ll be Roman’s primary attendant until he’s out of this ward. I’ve already met Mr. Sanders,” she added with a nod to Patton. “Can I have your names as well?”

Logan and Virgil made eye contact, both assessing until Logan spoke. “I’m Logan Lancaster.”

“And I’m Virgil Skylar.”

“Skylar?” Dr. Ahmad asked with an eyebrow raised. “That sounds familiar. But let me tell you all how our patient is doing.”

The three supers moved together to Roman’s bedside, eyes glued to the doctor. Her teal hijab matched the scrubs under her labcoat perfectly, and as she tapped a finger on her clipboard, Virgil noticed her nails matched, too. 

“Roman is currently in a state of unresponsiveness. We are not yet able to determine if he is fully in a comatose state. What that means is we’re not sure if he is aware of his surroundings, but he does not appear able to respond to any stimuli.”

“Do you know how he ended up like this?” Virgil asked. “Any trauma, any internal bleeding?”

“We’ve found no trauma, no bruising, no internal bleeding. From preliminary scans, there’s nothing inside the skull, either. Besides being underfed, he’s in remarkably good health. Except, of course, for the lack of consciousness. Do any of you know of his medical history?”

Logan scratched the back of his neck. “I believe he may have untreated and undiagnosed bipolar disorder. But I’m not a professional, and haven’t conducted an assessment regardless. As far as family history…” he looked over at Patton, who was rubbing small circles on Roman’s thigh.

“There’s no other family to contact,” the ginger-haired man replied shortly. “And he’s never been to a doctor before.”

Dr. Ahmad nodded. “Understood. Unfortunately, because we can’t tell what induced the current state, we can’t make a prognosis at the current time.”

“Does this hospital have specialists in recognizing and treating illness induced by enhanced abilities?” Logan asked.

The doctor turned to him, then looked over the other visitors. “Ah,” she said quietly. “You’re _those_ four. Yes, we do. They’re not in yet today, but we’ll send for them as soon as possible. Hopefully they’ll get us some more definite answers. Until then, all we can do is make Roman comfortable and hope he wakes on his own.”

“We can stay with him, right?” Patton asked, not looking up from where his eyes were fixed on Roman’s unconscious face. 

“Visiting hours end at eight pm…” she began, but Virgil made eye contact with an eyebrow raised. “Visiting hours _officially_ end at eight,” she amended. “And in my official capacity, I must of course advise you to leave by then. But we do have a tendency to, ah, miss certain wards in the nightly rounds.”

Patton squeezed Roman’s hand, steadfastly refusing to look away from his partner’s face. “What does that mean? I can’t… I don’t have anywhere else I could possibly be, not now.”

Virgil placed a careful hand on the villain’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “It means you can stay, Patton. No one is going to make you leave him alone.”

“I’ll be back later for further tests and any updates,” the doctor said. “The call button is here, and there’s a nurse stand down the hall to the left if you need anyone or anything.” She scribbled a note on Roman’s chart, nodded to them all, and departed.

Patton scooted his chair closer and brushed Roman’s hair out of his face. “Rospberry, I’m so sorry,” he whispered to the unconscious man. “I should have stayed with you. I should have kept you safe.”

Logan stood at the foot of the bed, reading the chart, but looked up at Patton’s quiet remark. “You cannot blame yourself for this, Gale- Patton. Whoever put him in this state is the one who owns all of the responsibility. Roman’s a good fighter - to still be caught means he must have been taken entirely by surprise.”

Patton looked back at Logan, a strange expression on his face. “I- thank you, Doc. Logan, was it?”

“Yes. Logan Lancaster.”

“Sorry, what was that, I think your volume’s too low-”

“I said-”

“-gan!”

Logan inhaled sharply, closing his eyes. “God, not even my dad’s come up with that one yet, and he _gave_ me that name.”

“What can I say, Doc, I really got that Pat-ernal spirit!”

“...I might scream.”

“Dr. Ahmad will yell at you if you do,” Virgil put in, watching the exchange with amusement.

“She cannot do anything further to hurt me, not when I’m subjected to these puns no matter where I go.”

“You don’t find them _humorous?”_ Patton asked, eyes dancing. Virgil smirked, but didn’t stop Logan as he replied.

“No, I do not.”

“Well it’s a good thing we’re in the hospital, you’ve clearly lost your _funny bone!”_

Logan stood up straight and walked over to the wall, where he made a show of slowly beating his head against it.

Virgil snorted and sat by Roman’s side once more. He hesitated, then reached out to hold the unconscious man’s hand. It felt off, somehow. He glanced down, and his eyebrows shot up.

“Lo, c’mere for a sec.”

Logan came up behind Virgil, resting his hands on his partner’s shoulders. “What is it?”

“Look at this - doesn’t this look like a deliberate fist?”

“You’re right, it does. Do you think he did it on purpose as he was going unconscious?”

“Maybe- can you check the other hand?”

Logan crossed, and carefully moved the sheets to reveal Roman’s right hand. “It’s a three, look! Fist and three - was he attacked by three people at once?”

Virgil was on his feet, pacing. “What trios do we know who are operating right now? Probably need to look at both heroes and villains and maybe even neutrals, they all could have some objection to what the Crimson Marauder’s been doing. Or he could have been in civilian wear, which pushes slightly more to villain or neutral.”

“There’s the copycat Fang Patrol attempting to form in the Heights, they’d be a likely enemy, right?” Logan mused. “I think the records I’ve seen indicate Roman was involved in defeating the original Patrol. Or the Triceras might be back in town.”

“Boys,” Patton said.

“I think Orion is operating again too, all three of them. We should call Talyn, they’d be able to help us narrow this down-”

 _“Boys,”_ Patton repeated, interrupting the back-and-forth. “Roman already told us exactly who attacked him.”

Both heroes turned, Virgil surprised, Logan skeptical. “How so?”

“Look at his hands. This isn’t just a fist. It’s a fist with the thumb on the side. That with the three fingers? He’s spelling in ASL. It’s ‘A’ and ‘W.’”

“Oh,” Virgil said, both heroes blushing slightly.

“Agent Whisper again,” Logan muttered. “I’d suspected, but hoped not.”

“This is all our fault,” Virgil said in a low voice, sitting down heavily. “We left him unprotected, knowing this fucker was out there.”

“Virge-” Logan began, but Virgil just shook his head miserably and took Roman’s hand in his again. Patton shifted his chair so he could mirror Virgil’s position on the other side, rubbing the back of Roman’s motionless hand with his thumb. Virgil looked up at the movement, and met Patton’s gaze. Both sets of eyes burned with the fire of revenge tempered by a stormcloud of guilt. Logan paused, unsure of how to help, but settled with resting his hands on Virgil’s shoulders and giving what he hoped was a comforting squeeze.

**~~~~~~**

Doctors and nurses came in sporadically over the course of the day, taking Roman’s pulse, drawing blood for additional tests, and checking all indicators of responsiveness. The three supers shifted around the room to give them space, never straying too far. The clock’s almost-imperceptible ticking swelled into a cacophony as Patton got quieter and quieter, his mouth settling into a grim line.

“I can’t take this anymore!” he finally burst out. “Roman might be dying and there’s nothing I can do! I can’t stand to see this, I can’t bear to lose him!”

He was halfway to the door where Virgil sped to stop him, hands braced against his shoulders and eyes blazing. “You can’t give up hope, Patton. You can’t leave him now, I know you can’t, because _not_ knowing would be even worse than seeing him like this.” He talked low but quickly, trying to cram as many words as he could into Patton’s hearing before the villain stormed past him, literally. “I know this is painful, feeling helpless and guilty all at once. But Roman wouldn’t want you to be racing off, not when it means you could end up in your own bed next to him or worse. If you really need to get out of this room, at least take one of us with you, okay? Stay safe.” He saw Patton ready to spit out a biting response and preempted it. “Don’t do this for me. Do it for _him.”_

Patton looked ready to blast Virgil through a wall, blue eyes stony and cold. He stared hard at the tall hero for a long, tense moment, then finally deflated.

“I’m just so…” he trailed off.

“Worried? Scared?” Virgil suggested. “It’s okay. We’ll get through this. The doctors will help, and if Roman can hear us, even the tiniest bit, we’ll let him know we’re here for him, okay?”

Patton sagged further, and leaned forward into Virgil’s chest. Virgil’s eyes widened, but he moved automatically in response nonetheless, carefully wrapping his arms around the shorter man’s shoulders.

A knock on the door surprised them all, and Patton sprang out of Virgil’s grip. They all assumed it was another round of medical staff, and Logan was the first to call out, “Come in!”

In came two women, wearing neither scrubs nor lab coats. But their appearance caused Virgil to gasp in delight.

“Mum! Mama! What’re you doing here?!” Without waiting for an answer, he crossed the room and seized both women in a single tight hug, lifting them slightly off the ground as he did so.

“Lolo texted us,” the taller responded as Virgil put them both back on their feet. “He knew you’d need family.” She pushed back the red hairs that were falling out of her ponytail, smiling up at her son. They shared a similar build and jawline, but Virgil maintained he’d not inherited _nearly_ the full level of dorkiness that either of his moms possessed. She waved at Logan at the back of the room, and turned to Patton. “Hello, I’m Celeste Skylar, Virgil’s Mum.”

“And I’m Tatiana, his Mama,” her wife said, extending a hand to shake. Patton took it carefully and shook it, seeming uncertain. Tatiana smiled wide, teeth flashing bright against her dark skin. “I’m sorry to have to meet a friend of Virgey’s in such a difficult context, but all I’m thinking right now is how much I love your curls!”

Patton hesitantly smiled back. “Hi, I’m Patton Sanders. I’m, uh. Virgil’s coworker?” he asked, glancing at the hero.

“Oh, we know about the whole thing,” Celeste said breezily, twiddling a hand to somehow indicate superpowers. “Are you one of the lovingly-frustrating villains?”

Virgil flushed. _“Mum,_ that is not how I described them.”

“Yes, dear, but I can read between the lines. Or, listen, in this case. Logan, come here, it’s been too long.”

Logan obediently accepted enthusiastic hugs from both women, Tatiana planting a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for texting me, sweetie. This is why we trust you with our boy. Now. How’s our patient?”

Virgil nodded to Patton, who led the moms over to the bed. “This is Roman. We found him early this morning, and think he’s been unconscious for over twelve hours now.”

Tatiana’s lips tightened for a moment as she gazed at Roman’s sleeping form. But she looked up again at Patton with a warmer expression. “And he’s your partner?”

“In all senses of the word, yes.” He looked down and smoothed Roman’s hair. “He’s my sunlight.”

“Then this is hard, like nothing you’ve done before,” Celeste said, her voice soft. “Because it’s nothing you can fight or fix, you just have to _wait. ”_

Patton nodded, still on edge.

“That’s why we’re here. We’ll help get you set up to make the waiting easier,” Tatiana explained warmly. “I can’t tell you it won’t keep being hard, because I know it will. But the logistics don’t have to be what makes it hard. Now, let’s get you set up.”

Virgil and his moms immediately started moving. Virgil went to the waiting room around the corner and came back easily carrying two large, cushioned chairs. Celeste opened a nondescript cupboard to reveal a case of warm blankets. Tatiana sent Logan down to the nurse station to get extra pillows, while she produced bags and bags of snacks from her purse. Together they assembled a makeshift bed, right next to Roman’s.

Patton watched all this unfold, staring. He sat on the edge of the newly-formed bed and looked up at the wives. Tatiana was leaning against Celeste’s shoulder and their hands were interlocked as they both looked down at Roman.

“Why are you being so helpful?” he asked, brow furrowed. “You don’t know me, or Ro, and your son only stopped fighting us about four days ago…” 

“Because we can,” Tatiana replied. “Because no matter who you are, you deserve to get the full mom treatment.”

Patton’s throat formed a lump, and he looked down at his lap. A hand lifted his chin until he was staring into Celeste’s bright blue eyes. She spread her arms. “You look like you could use a hug, honey.”

Patton stood and threw his arms around her waist as tears suddenly began to fall for the first time all day. He felt another set of arms circle behind him as he cried into Celeste’s pink denim jacket, and he felt Tatiana start stroking his hair.

“This okay, sweetie?”

All he could do was nod.

Eventually, his sobs subsided, and he sat back into his makeshift bed. Celeste sat with him, rubbing circles in his lower back. He felt the tears threatening to return as he remembered Miss Parsons doing the same, once upon a time. Tatiana brought him water and pushed a packet of fruit gummies into his hands.

“Thank you.”

“It’s the least we can do, sweetie. I don’t know if Virgil’s told you, but he has siblings about your age. 22 and 20 now, bless them.”

“Speaking of our other children, Tati, we do need to get home to them soon,” Celeste said regretfully.

“I-” Patton started, then hesitated. 

“Hm?”

“How do I do this?” Patton whispered. “How do I just wait and watch and worry and not explode?”

Tatiana and Celeste both reached out at the same moment, their hands joining like puzzle pieces. Tati looked down, thinking, then met Patton’s gaze. “I won’t tell you it’s easy, because it’s not. Nothing about it is easy. It’s draining, emotionally and physically. But you keep going, you power through, because you love him. Because you want to be there the minute something changes. Because there’s a slight, slight chance that he can hear you and you want him to know that he’s never alone.”

“Be kind to yourself, dear,” Celeste added. “Remember to eat. Let yourself rest. Let yourself _feel._ And don’t be afraid to ask for help.”

Patton nodded in wordless thanks, unable to speak. The women stood and hugged both Virgil and Logan thoroughly before departing with a last wave.

**~~~~~~**

In the silence that followed, Virgil sat in one of the other chairs, near to Patton without crowding, and Logan sat down on his other side. All three supers paused to watch Roman’s chest rise and fall in time with the sounds of the oxygen machine and the blips of the heart rate machine as accompaniment. 

“You had family here in the hospital,” Patton said to Virgil after a pause. It wasn’t a question.

“Yes. My little sister. Sandry.”

“...can I ask?”

Logan grimaced and reached over for Virgil’s hand, giving a comforting squeeze. Virgil smiled weakly at him before responding. “I mean, yeah, at this point, you might as well know.” He took a deep breath. “It’s not pretty, though.”

Patton chuckled humorlessly. “What about any of this is?” He took Roman’s hand in his and settled in to listen.

Virgil’s gaze remained fixed on the speckled floor tiles as he spoke.

“We knew I had powers early. Flight and strength are both pretty flashy. But they weren’t disruptive or anything. And Mum and Mama didn’t want to take me out of school, so I just stayed in my public school out in the suburbs. They hadn’t heard of any alternatives. And for the most part it was… normal, I guess. No one suspected that I hated gym because I’d be too good at it, they all just thought I was an awkward emo nightmare. Which, to be fair, was true. But in middle school, things started to change. I accidentally hovered sometimes, or sat too heavily and broke chairs, or slammed doors open and cracked the walls. People started making fun of me, thought I was just a terrible klutz. I wasn’t super confident to start with, between being mixed and caught between those two worlds and having two moms. When I first realized that people made it a _thing_ that Mum is a trans woman, or that Jacques and Alex are enbys, I stopped talking about my family. But as my powers kept bursting out of me, I started trying to hide in plain sight all the time, tried to appear smaller, and I learned to be afraid. Afraid of what people would say and were saying. Afraid that they’d target my siblings or moms. Afraid that my next mistake would be super noticeable. Afraid that everyone would find out about my powers and I’d never be anything other than Virgil the Freak.

“It just got worse. The more I thought and worried about hiding my powers, the more they broke away with me. I was constantly on edge, hiding in my hoodie in the back of the classroom, hoping no one would look at me or notice me or even _think_ about me. And then one day, when I was fifteen, I accidentally picked up an entire wall of lockers to get an assignment that had fallen under a crack. I thought no one saw me but… I was in my yard that night, scrolling on my phone, when I started getting text after text of these dumb memes and messages making fun of me. Then I got a call. Six of my classmates, all on speaker, all together at someone’s house, laughing at me. I hung up on them, but I’d already started crying. It felt like all my fears were coming true, and I was panicking. I couldn’t breathe or think straight, and the world felt like it was moving way too fast and also frozen at the same time. Sandry heard and came out to comfort me, to try to talk me down, literally, because I’d started hovering again, all curled up in a tiny ball.”

Virgil paused, taking in a deep, shuddering breath. Logan squeezed his hand and started rubbing his back in small, comforting circles. Patton watched solemnly, not interrupting.

“All I can say is I didn’t realize it was her,” he continued, his voice hollow. “All I could hear was their laughter, all I could see was the taunts I’d been receiving, and when she touched my arm… I exploded. I screamed at her to get away, and it triggered the power I didn’t yet know about. I blasted her into the big old oak tree in our yard and she hit it full force, frozen in the middle of reaching out for me. The crack as she connected…” he shuddered. “I’ll never forget it. It’s the worst sound I’ll ever hear. But it was enough to break through, for me to come back to myself, to see what I’d done. I started sobbing and yelling for Mum and Mama and Jacques and Liv and Alex and they all came running out. They were horrified, and terrified. Of _me._

“We broke every single speed limit on the way to the hospital - to here. I was almost fully mute with shock but we were able to tell them it had been a super accident. Sandry was bruised all over and non-responsive. We didn’t know for a full day if she was still frozen from my power or the injuries, but we found out she was in a fully comatose state. My little sister, Sandra Skylar, was eleven years old and in a coma, the doctors had no idea when or if she’d wake up, and _I’d put her there._ It was my fault. And if she died, brain-dead, never waking again, that would have been my fault too,” Virgil finished, voice cracking.

Logan shifted to hug his boyfriend around the shoulders, shushing softly. “It’s okay, Virge. She recovered, and your family still loves you, and that’s when you got the help you needed.” Turning to Patton, he explained, “It lasted a week, and in that time, the hospital staff learned that Virgil wasn’t enrolled at HEARTS, the super school. His moms hadn’t heard of it, but the minute they did, they got him transferred, so he could get instruction on how to manage his powers and get support for the ups and downs of using them. And that’s where we met. It’s where he became a hero.”

Virgil leaned into Logan for a moment and brushed away his tears. “Only half-right, Lo. That was where we met, but _here_ is where I became a hero. Or resolved to be one.” He gazed over at Roman’s still form. “Spending days and nights on end, seeing her in that bed, hoping desperately that she would be okay… I promised anyone who was listening that if she survived, I’d never let it happen again. That I’d learn control, and that I’d keep her and everyone like her safe. I wish I could say it was because it was the right thing to do, but so much of it was just knowing what that pain felt like, knowing what I’d done.”

“Wait, really?” Patton asked. “Heroes are allowed to be doing it for something other than Truth, Justice, and the American WayTM?”

Logan was frowning. “Well, not ideally, but-”

“We all _want_ to, but most of us don’t,” Virgil interrupted. “Or maybe we did when we were young and now it’s just a job, a specialized skill we have. Not all of us can be as pure as the Doc over here.”

Patton hesitated, then reached out and took Virgil’s hand. “Thank you for trusting me with your story.”

Virgil shot him a small smile. “Thanks for listening.”

“But, Virgil?”

“Yeah?”

“Next time you use that force wave power, it better be against the bastard who put Ro here.”

“You’ve got yourself a fucking deal.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Backstory! Moms! Momming!  
> (I love Virgil's moms very much, I know far too much about them for characters who haven't appeared until chapter 9)

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
> Short comments  
> Long comments  
> Questions  
> Constructive criticism  
> “<3” as extra kudos  
> Reader-reader interaction  
> This author replies to comments.


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